Pale Fire
by pemberleys
Summary: In this world, there is no running from your destiny. Semi-AU Kouen/OC
1. Kou and Jishou

**T** his story's official inspirational godmother is xLilim's **Empress,** because I got lots of my ideas after reading her complex, compelling story about another princess and her alliance to Kou. It's also a Kouen/OC fanfic, so if you haven't already read/heard of it by now, please go check it out! This story will feature similar elements, most notably the politics of royal life.

Because this fic is kinda heavy on the AU-worldbuilding and the OCs, there's been some demand for supplementary material; you'll find a link to a livejournal on my profile, where I'll be posting such stuff.

* * *

 **Prologue**

The world was spinning.

" _Uygh_ …hey, crap—"

 _Thud._

"—Ouch."

And he'd just tripped on his own boots. Sinbad sighed, bringing up a hand to wipe the…what was it this time?

Ah, yes, _araq._

He sighed, bringing up a hand to wipe the araq that had just spilled out of a corner of his mouth. He was only semi-drunk. _That_ he knew with absolute certainty, no matter what his generals seemed to think. (Ha!)

…But having sailed and danced and talked with the oh-so-many beauties he'd seen that afternoon, he was pondering just how soft the grass beneath his feet was, thinking if it would at all be good for a quick…nap. Maybe. Passing out in the royal gardens of an as of yet unfamiliar country was definitely a no-no, if he recalled Ja'far correctly.

Well, it was Ja'far who'd told him to go to the event in the first place. They'd just arrived in the hot country that afternoon, after a long and delayed boat ride from the western coasts of Parthevia, and the Ariavatan welcoming party had invited them to join them in their celebration of—of _something_ , well he barely remembered now, not when their araq was too good and too…plentiful…

Sinbad squinted out in front of him, searching for a place his body could nestle comfortably amongst the well-tended greenery.

* * *

His eyes picked out something else at the top of a small hill.

He found his legs moving toward that direction. It seemed he was not alone in enjoying the, ah, _delights_ of the royal gardens. Amongst the exotic desert flora, a single hill rose at the back of the gardens, with a solitary tree at its top. A robed figure sat before the tree, head tilted toward the tree branches and the inky night sky.

The moment he placed his booted foot on the first stone step up the hill, he knew it was special. In the moonlight, he could see the rippling grass was too green, too healthy, the fresh air tasted different, and the tree was a cherry tree, of all the things to find growing in those hot and dry lands.

His foot had made a noise, of course. The figure looked down from their perch, and Sinbad was surprised to find it was a woman—she was dressed in an ornate black robe embroidered with sparkling gold birds. Her pursed lips held a firm, pensive set to it, and her brows furrowed as she rose to acknowledge him.

"Forgive me—were you here to see the cherry tree as well?"

He ascended the steps, idly wondering if she would even allow him to be near her (though he really didn't care all too much about that at the moment). She looked like a blue-blood, held herself like a blue-blood—sounded like a blue-blood, almost, with her voice thick with some emotion but still trying in vain to hide it away.

He was fully awake now as he came to gaze at her, and she couldn't have been older than eighteen, nineteen even, almost as old as he was.

"Now that I've gazed upon it, I do believe I've come to see you instead," he said light-heartedly, in a transparent attempt to get her to smile.

However briefly, his attempt worked. Her lips quirked for all but a second before she turned to gaze up at the cherry tree once again.

Silently, he joined her as he reached the top of the hill, watching the pink petals that then fluttered to the ground.

* * *

They were sitting a few feet away from each other. Sinbad gazed at her curiously, cradling his chin in the palm of his hand.

"So, are you royalty? A queen, perhaps?"

Her pale green eyes shifted towards him from the cherry tree. "Hm. Close, but not quite." She turned to face him fully, "What brings you to the great kingdom of Ariavat?"

"Trade, but that's unimportant," Undeterred, Sinbad said, "so are you a princess? A nobleman's wife?"

Sinbad watched as she looked away for a moment, and something inexplicably close to melancholy danced in her eyes. He watched as her face twisted before she looked back at him and wryly said, "A combination of those things, maybe."

Silence reigned.

In the back of his head he could hear that faint fluttering of wings—she, seemingly absentminded, lifted her hand and placed it above her heart. Her eyes turned distant again, and suddenly he was struck with the vision of a single black bird drifting out of her chest and into the air _,_ beating its wings and joining the rest of the rukh…

"Ah." He eyed her ornate black robes again. Quietly, gently, he said, "A widow, then."

* * *

They spoke.

And somehow he'd ventured closer to her now; if he outstretched his arm, he could brush his thumb over the tear tracks that had probably run their course many a time down her cheeks. Sinbad curiously mused out loud: "You couldn't have been anything more than a child when that…happened."

She noticed his intent gaze. Amusedly, she spoke, "I'm sure you know that when you're born into royalty, there's no such thing as a childhood."

He lifted his arm. What he did was place a hand on her shoulder, and when she lifted her own brow in reply at the gesture, he unexpectedly felt his heart lurch.

Sinbad, sailor of the seven seas, newly crowned ruler of his own equally new kingdom, _first class singularity,_ felt fate wind itself around them. The eye of his mind unclouded, and unbidden, he again glimpsed one tiny fraction of the grand flow of destiny.

Then he grinned at her. With all the certainty in the world, he said: "But life doesn't stop here, does it?"

He waited for her answer. Her forehead wrinkled, and she gave a sudden laugh—harsh, but not cynical, and Sinbad bit his lips at the unexpected happiness he felt when she did so. Her eyes closed as she laughed, but when she opened them again with mirth and the beginnings of acceptance in her eyes, he felt his face split with the size of his grin.

Too many people thought death was the end of everything. But Sinbad knew, perhaps more than anyone, that that was nothing if not the furthest thing from the truth.

"No, I suppose it doesn't."

* * *

 **1**

 _Kou and Jishou_

 _5 years later_

Some ways east of Rakushou and off the continent, lay a chain of island nations historically allied to each other. Untouched and undisturbed in the far flung corner of the world that separated the western and eastern continent, the Triangle of nations had had seemingly no reason to involve themselves in the power plays that currently dominated the political landscape outside their dominions.

But the Kou Empire had come to even Jishou at last, with trade deals and diplomatic proposals in abundance. Much of Kou's time had been spent pushing west that when they turned their gaze east, Sayu imagined that they were wary to find Jishou and the Triangle—currently unallied to any major power in the world—still afloat in the vast ocean that parted Reim and Kou. Soon messages were sent, then some minor ambassadors, then the sudden flood of work that came with the official correspondence between two nations. When Kou had started its militaristic expansion, Jishou had largely been left unnoticed—

—and _now,_ Kou's sobering diplomatic overtures were received with equal parts caution and curiosity. A few of the courtiers had even thought, with a nation as rumored to be aggressive as Kou, the foreign empire would abandon all statecraft once Jishou had made it clear that it was pointedly indifferent to the idea of becoming a vassal.

Those expectations had been shattered when the empire instead suggested an alliance. And while the idea had at first been regarded with suspicion, a year into negotiations and Kou's patient but relentless insistence on the matter had made the alliance evolve from being a nebulous thing to a binding agreement whose stipulations would soon be agreed upon in court.

Now they were here, and the day everyone had well anticipated and prepared for had come. A great number of curious matters had reached the political circles Sayu ran, yet none had always excited her more than today, the day of the imperial princes' visit to Jishou.

On this most auspicious morning, guards from both nations lined her sides as finally a man walked down the gangplank from the large Kou ship, a bevy of servants and advisors trailing in his wake.

He was a tall-ish prince, blessed with the red hair of Ren Koutoku. His face, she noticed as he made his way off the ship, was mottled with pimples, and a heart-shaped earring hung on the one ear uncovered by his hair. He seemed old, older than her, even though Sayu knew the opposite was true; Ren Koumei might've been a full year younger than her, his splendid purple robes might've hung off of him a little, and his face might've appeared too sleepy to be seriously polite in the company of fellow royalty, but she knew he was rumored to be just as astute as the most experienced war general.

Though right then he looked so tired, the seaside wind might as well've carried him away right that instant.

Sayu stepped forward to greet him. When she raised her arms, hidden by the billowing sleeves of her favorite plum-colored robe, she stifled an amused grin.

They were wearing matching robes.

The prince came to a stop before her, bowing his head in a sign of respect. She returned the gesture promptly; and while she was expected to give some kind of formal welcome, she instead offered him a simple greeting, smiling as she straightened from her bow: "I bid you welcome, Prince Koumei. I am the eldest and First Princess of Jishou, Sayuri. How was your journey?"

The foreign prince's eyes minutely widened at her name, and seemed thrown off by the informality. He drew a feathered fan from his wide sash as he hesitated on his answer. Its intricate gold handle was eye catching, but even more so was the large ruby that seemed to wink at her with its famed 8 point star. It was one of those metal vessels—one of those great, mysterious objects that the Triangle had only ever heard about.

He gripped it in front of him, and Sayu noted his stiffening stance—she kept her easy expression, privately finding it intriguing that his metal vessel, an object of power, was something as mundane as a fan. His tired eyes discreetly looked her up and down, but soon he cautiously—respectfully—settled with, "Wonderful for the most part, Princess Sayuri. The Jishouan Royal Navy is truly commendable. I had not expected the trip to be so short."

He seemed to not know what to make of her. In response Sayu nodded and clasped her hands, her robes fluttering in the mild sea breeze. Jishou had given the Kou delegation an escort of ships while they made their way across the sea—his remark sounded at least sincere, which pleased her.

Around them the soldiers and attendants began to move in unison, rapidly preparing for the next leg of their journey to the summer palace.

Sayu was happy that he looked to be of the more polite, _reserved_ sort of royalty, if a little drowsy. She watched him as he came to stand a few ways beside her. "It comes with centuries of maritime trade with the Triangle, as you may already know."

She offhandedly gestured at the open-air carriage that awaited them at the far side of the dock, which was wide, comfortable, and meant to be a welcome change after a long boat ride.

"Indeed," Koumei said, gazing all around him. The port city of Tohouku was amongst the jewels in Jishou, and was only a short ride away from the summer palace, up in the mountains.

Sayu smiled, faintly amused at the thinly veiled awe on the prince's face.

* * *

It had been a long time since a dignitary from a far away land—or at least a land as far away as Kou anyway—had come to Jishou.

And so there was, of course, a massive banquet held that night at the summer palace. Prince Koumei looked slightly uneasy at the readiness with which the government seemed to welcome him. He looked equally uneasy by his proximity to the royal family and the many foreign foods and cultures that greeted him at the royal banquet table, seated as he was at the right hand of her father, the king, and directly across her mother, the queen.

Delegates from all over the Triangle had come to informally receive him as well, and he was even more flustered with the attention everyone seemed to lavish him with. Sayu had to bite back a laugh; seated all around him were her numerous brothers and sisters, and even her parents, who were alternately engaging themselves and Koumei in rapid, amiable conversation.

All in all, a typical Jishouan welcoming party.

She herself had skirted that particular affair at the banquet table, choosing instead to go mill about the hall and greet the foreign diplomats that had come.

"My princess, isn't it a pity his brother isn't here yet?" Her handmaid, Fuu, asked. The two surreptitiously watched the royal antics from afar, where Sayu's eighteen year old sister—Mameha—was trying to get Koumei to eat something spicy from Ariavat.

"Which one? His step-brother? Or the other two?" Sayu raised a brow at Fuu. The blonde wiggled her finger, smiling slyly.

"The _older_ one," Fuu faux-whispered. "The handsome one. They say he has two djinns at his disposal!"

"I see the grapevine from the servants' network is growing well with the arrival of the attendants from Kou," Sayu commented. "How do you find them?"

Fuu shrugged beside her. "They're a courteous bunch. Very disciplined and polite—no misunderstandings, as of yet." And suddenly her fervor returned, and Fuu looked at her mistress eagerly, "But believe me, my princess! All the maids from Kou talk about how handsome he is. How manly…and his body, _oh,_ you wouldn't believe the things they say about it…"

As Fuu went off into her dreamy mutterings about the crown prince of Kou, Sayu pondered the man's existence as well: she'd heard of Ren Kouen and his many military exploits. He was quite the busy man it seemed, even with Kou's war campaign on hold for the time being. The Kou-Jishou negotiations had been going for a year already, but it was only in the present summer that temporary peace reigned in the empire, and thus two of their most important princes, Koumei and Kouen, would be able to spare the time to come so far east of Rakushou.

The most noticeable, indispensible stipulation in the Kou-Jishou alliance had always been a marriage: Kou had been the one to propose such a thing, and while everyone had balked at it at first, it was an idea that soon gained traction in court. All the more to leverage with, everyone in the palace had decided, and cautiously entered into _those_ negotiations.

(Sayu internally scoffed at that: no one loved a royal wedding more than the Jishouan court. Even if it was a wedding meant to trap the country in an alliance with a rapidly expanding, demanding nation like Kou.)

Despite having suggested and graciously done most of the work crafting such a proposition, no official word had come back from Kou about which of their heirs and heiresses specifically was being offered as a marriage candidate, or even which Jishouan prince or princess they would've preferred for the ceremony. The only thing set in stone was the mutual agreement for this marriage.

 _Of course Kou would want to be sly like that,_ she thought. Like all other marriage negotiations, this one would be a protracted affair; that she already knew. It was a good pretext for the Kou delegation—and especially the visiting Kou princes—to have more time to thoroughly survey Jishou. They would be looking through their history, their military, their trade, and their governance as they went about refining the terms of their alliance.

But maybe she was the only one who felt so squeamish about Kou. After all—her royal family seemed to like Koumei, the chief negotiator of this alliance until Kouen arrived, well enough.

Sayu sighed, turning to watch her handmaid reenter into reality. The princess listened again as Fuu excitedly spoke: "Do you think he's the one the Kou emperor seeks a marriage for, princess? Is that the reason for his late arrival? Oh, the suspense!" the handmaid said, swiping a cup of rice wine from a passing attendant. Fuu held it out for her princess to take, and Sayu thanked her with a smile.

"Unlikely," The princess replied, swirling the transparent drink in her hands, "Only preparations for the next campaign have held him down, Prince Koumei told me on the way from the docks. Though, Prince Kouen is too important to tie down with a wife from Jishou, I think. He and his chosen wife will one day inherit the imperial throne, and I don't imagine the current emperor passing over more advantageous alliances from larger countries for an alliance with us…"

But here she smiled. She greeted a passing diplomat, who bowed to her. She returned her eyes to the scene at the royal table. "Nevertheless, I'm sure whichever poor girl they marry to Prince Kouen will be miserable. Too much a warmonger, or so all the trade circles say. It would be unbearable for a wife."

"Prince Koumei isn't too bad himself," Fuu said, tapping her chin. "The acne can go with a little…help. Is he the one?"

"They have a younger pair of siblings as well, you know—children, really. Though we all know mother and father wouldn't stand for a marriage involving someone so young again."

And neither would Sayu.

But Sayu also knew which way the wind was blowing: as it stood, Koumei had the best chances of marrying a Jishouan princess. Not his step-brother and step-sister, not his younger kid siblings either; Koumei was the court's unofficial choice, and thus the princess set up for him was not just any princess too. The only truly marriageable princess as of the moment was 18 year old Mameha. Lively, beautiful Mameha, the second princess of Jishou, her younger sister.

And perfectly, as word had it, Koumei was much more inclined to stay away from the battlefield. Which would create a better situation for a Jishouan princess to politically maneuver in—or at least a better situation compared to a marriage with Kouen.

Mameha's days as a princess of Jishou were practically numbered now, and everyone in the court circuits knew deep in their hearts that it was a matter of time until the two were formally betrothed. Even if Kou liked to keep mum about their plans, the rest of Jishou had firmly already made up their minds.

It looked to be something not so distasteful, as arranged marriages went: Sayu eyed her little sister poking fun at Koumei's disheveled hairstyle, to which the prince responded with a slight reddening of his ears and him self-consciously patting the back of his neck.

Perhaps it would even be amiable, although Sayu knew more than anyone that marriages were never so simple.

 _Still, I hope they'll be happy together._

Now if Kouen would come to iron out the rest of the negotiations, and the palace could breathe easier with knowing the reason behind Kou's sudden interest in Jishou.

The elder princess took a deep breath, sipping her rice wine.

A racket started in the far end of the banquet hall. When she spotted the telltale throng of aristocrats and servants parting in the middle of the hall and making way, she sprouted a grin. Sayu started towards the upper end of the hall, fully intending to get a good view of the impending spectacle.

"Come, Fuu," Sayu said, downing the rest of the cup of wine in one go. She handed it to a passing servant, who promptly disappeared with it. She felt the air in the hall thicken, as it saturated with the magoi of the multiple magicians that had just entered the premises, "I think the magisters have finally arrived."

* * *

 _My brother and king,_

 _Although I know you would like me to start this missive with a monotonous preliminary report on the journey here, my hand feels too weak to do s_ _ **O**_ (The last character's ink has blotted)

 _The royal family is…_ (another ink blot, though the next few words have been written carefully) very welcoming.

 _I've been introduced to officials, both foreign and local, many times over, in the course of my stay here thus far. Nearly every night are we slipping into one banquet or another at a merchant or nobleman's mansion. It has been good for diplomacy. Not so good for my sleep, as you may already surmise._

 _There are many cultural similarities to Kou, and am still surprised to find it so. I am aware of the buried history that long ago, Rakushou and Jishou shared many ties. Perhaps the reasons why their shipwrights seem to be so skilled in producing superior maritime vessels are those same ties. A sea separates Jishou and the eastern continent, but both their ships and navy have somehow managed to expedite the travel. It is one of the many curious things about this country and this region of the world._

(Here the script straightens, and the characters seem more uniform and neatly written)

 _I regret to say information about the Magisterium remains at large. A few of these "magisters" had come to the banquet the night of my arrival—though our past correspondence with Jishou has them hinting that these "magisters" are nothing more than scholars, they are in fact_ magicians _._

 _There seems to be an unusual abundance of them here, and perhaps even in the entire Triangle._

(The writer's usual sloppy script returns)

 _The tales I could tell of what I saw the night of my arrival. You must hurry here, brother. There is much to discover._

 _Your loyal servant,_

 _Ren Koumei_

* * *

Notes:

(1) A quick list of ages: Sayu (23), Sinbad (25), Kouen (24), Koumei (22), Kouha (14), Kougyoku (13), Hakuei (17), Hakuryuu (12). So this fic is actually 4 years before the actual events of the series.

(2) Jishou is kinda like Japan, but not really, because (as it goes with the other countries in the series) they're not really supposed to reflect any real countries. But it's always nice to have some kind of reference to point to.

(3) Sinbad will be back, but not until _way_ later. And, well, obviously I've been reading the manga. A lot of things need explaining, but all in due time.

 _Please_ write me some reviews, if you feel inclined to. I'm semi-new to worldbuilding and to writing for Magi, so any and all suggestions and constructive reviews are welcome. If you have any questions, any people you'd like to see in this fic, just say so :-) Until the next chapter!


	2. The Widow's Wimple

**2**

 _The Widow's Wimple_

This was the Triangle, as everyone informally called it: the long standing alliance between the island nations of Jishou, Ariavat and Caera. Jishou lay in the west, Caera in the east, and Ariavat at the southern tip that made the Triangle; in the months before the imperial princes' visit, Sayu had been slated to travel east to Caera for the summer, as she usually did every year. Tohouku was a beautiful port city close to the mountains, making it perfect for the hotter temperatures that came with the season, but she longed for Caera's warm, north-eastern climate and sprawling orchards.

But her father and mother, the king and queen, had ordered her presence here for whatever reasons unknown to her. So she stayed, and Sayu idly drifted in and out of the royal family's activities for the next few weeks. Most of it was getting Koumei acquainted with Jishou, anyway, and her older brothers would do a perfect job of that.

And it was not as if she was entirely without work to do, regardless: if most of the tradesmen and the courtiers were in Tohouku for the spectacle of the Kou princes' visit, she may as well maximize the opportunities presented. There were meetings to make, deals to cut, conversations to be had.

As Jishou and Kou's fates entwined, the rest of the world went on.

* * *

Koumei had to marvel at the architecture of the summer palace built into Tohouku's mountains: it offered a sprawling view of the port city, as well as captured both the fresh mountain air and the salty seaside breeze. The Jishouan people had artfully carved into the mountain, allowing for many structures, winding paths and gardens to be built.

He sat on a balcony high up on the main keep, and the true expanse of the summer castle stretched before his eyes. Temples, gates, storehouses, and turrets were built up and down the mountain, with many stone paths and trees in between. The complex was nearly labyrinthine in manner, and he felt a strange sense of awe looking at the marvel Jishou had managed to build.

Across from him sat Princess Mameha, who dimpled as she watched him gaze out at their summer palace. Under her gentle gaze, Koumei flushed; she was part of the entourage that sometimes escorted him to official events, and she'd been nothing but a semi-constant companion and a…lively partner in conversation.

The Jie family, which ruled Jishou, had a particular coloring to them; save for the king, everyone bore green eyes and silver hair. Mameha, who was pale-skinned, had a similarly light tint to her silver hair. Today the young princess had it pulled back in an elaborate hairstyle fitted with a single, beautiful metal comb; she was dressed in a summery, peach pink robe painted with the outlines of leaves embroidered in gold.

But her green eyes, which were a dark, forest-like hue, were concentrated on pouring a cup of tea.

He hadn't even noticed he'd been staring, lost in thought, until she spoke, "Tohouku is beautiful, isn't it?"

Blinking, Koumei looked at her fully. She cheerfully held out a cup of tea for him, which he took with a grateful nod.

She mirrored his earlier gaze and looked out upon the city. Mameha was too gracious to speak about his staring, so instead she said, "I can tell the architecture of the palace interests you. I would tell you about it, but unfortunately my knowledge in it is lacking. Sayu could tell you more."

Below, a small procession of officials made their way down a path and into a garden. From this distance, Koumei could make out the silver hair of another royal member amongst the cluster of robed figures. Mameha's eyes focused on this crowd as she sipped her tea.

Earlier indiscretion forgotten, Koumei wasn't sure if broaching the subject of her older sister would come off as indelicate.

It had been a slight curiosity to see the First Princess yesterday at the docks, and her appearance in court similarly intrigued him; their ambassador had never really spoken of her, even in private correspondence. All that had been said in the matter was that she'd been married into the royal family of Caera, widowed, and was thus spending the rest of her days in her homeland.

The truth was, when it came to the Jishouan princesses, their ambassador had always heavily preferred to speak of Mameha; it had wryly amused both Koumei and Kouen to see the official they'd appointed go out of his way to extol her virtues and her beauty, in a ridiculously enthusiastic endorsement for the marriage contract.

 _Princess Mameha is the most suitable of them all, my lords,_ he'd written. Now, Koumei regretted not asking about the First Princess more: he'd privately imagined a middle-aged cow as the First Princess, with the way their ambassador had spoken of her. So he hadn't been expecting a young woman wearing purple robes matching his when he actually _met_ her.

"You've met my older sister, right?"

"Indeed I have, princess."

But curiously, he hadn't gotten to speak to her ever since the day of his arrival—and by then, an eventful two weeks had already passed.

The princess grinned at him, gesturing down at the crowd below. "She's a very busy person, you know. All the ministers are fond of her."

Wondering what she was gesturing at, Koumei looked down and was surprised to find that the small procession had drawn closer to the keep; the silver head turned out to be Sayuri, speaking to an elderly official.

Beside him, Mameha waved a hand at the gathered people. Sayuri looked up, and while she was minutely surprised to see them both there, she returned the wave. She nodded at Koumei, before returning to her conversation with her companion.

Mameha was smiling into her teacup. The girl took a sip before remarking, "See? If you have any questions, you should ask her. I can't think of a person more knowledgeable than Sayu. Other than father, that is."

* * *

And so, without really knowing why, Koumei sought out the First Princess on one of the rare days he could spare the time. Kouen was due in Tohouku in a while, anyway, and thus he was out of work for a bit.

The excitement the arrival of his older brother made was evident in that some of the parts in the summer palace were quieter. Most of the activity was concentrated in the main keep, and he was left to meander the palace grounds with no fawning nobles trailing him. It was only him and his personal guard now, mindlessly searching for the First Princess.

At breakfast, he'd asked Mameha the whereabouts of her older sister. To his utter surprise, she'd shaken her head apologetically.

 _Nobody really knows her personal schedule,_ Mameha said as her brows furrowed and she popped a candied plum in her mouth, _she does so much no one really knows where she is most of the time._

He'd politely asked a few other people as well; the queen, who he had tea with mid-morning, had said something in a similar vein; the Crown Prince, who'd been sparring with his younger brother, had outright shrugged with a laugh; the Kou ambassador, who Koumei hadn't really been expecting to have an answer anyway, had only used the chance to ask about his next meeting with Mameha.

It had been the Minister of Rites, an old diplomat that Koumei had been introduced to in the first week of his stay, that had provided an even remotely useful answer. The old man had dotingly said: _search the west gardens, Prince Koumei. It was our meeting place yesterday, and she seemed to take a liking to it._

So here he was, navigating the fir and cypress trees with an increasingly despondent chance of finding the person he was looking for.

 _Why am I even doing this when I can be sleeping._

Koumei sighed, fanning himself. His guards seemed to be getting tired, so when they passed under a large wooden gate and entered one of the gardens, he bid them rest on the stone benches.

It was one of the larger, more meticulously maintained gardens that they had entered. A great deal of landscaping had obviously been put into its making, since part of the grounds had been leveled to make way for a modestly sized artificial lake. Koumei crossed the bridge built on top of the lake, absentmindedly gazing into the waters swimming with red and white carp.

 _Hm. Kougyoku might want to have these colors of carp in her own garden._

On the other side of the lake was a grand pavilion. There were a few people there already, to his dismay, but when he neared it he noticed the Jishouan guards stationed nearby, and one attendant in particular seemed to recognize him.

She stood at the foot of the pavilion, half-shaded from the summer sun, and bowed low, "P-Prince K-Kou-m-m-mei!"

A voice from within the structure called out, "Fuu? What is it?" Another person joined the attendant, and it was Sayuri; her own silvery white hair had been let down, and she wore layers of burgundy and white robes, a scheme strangely reminiscent of Kou.

It was her turn to look surprised. "Prince Koumei. Would you…like to join me for tea?"

Having walked all afternoon in search of her, Koumei replied in the affirmative. Behind him, his guards arrived and restationed themselves right by.

Sayuri gestured for him to follow, and she led him inside the wide pavilion. A rug and tea setting had already been laid out, and she let him sit on one of the cushions before settling across him. Servants served both of them desserts. They were mostly sticky sweet confections with bits of fruit in them, and Sayuri poured him a mildly bitter tea that complimented the flavors nicely.

"You've been admiring the west gardens, I see," The princess commented lightly.

There was this certain self-possessed air about Sayuri that Mameha didn't have; although she appeared to be just as amiable, Koumei hesitated more in talking to the older princess. He still didn't know her very well, after all, and she seemed to be much more influential in court, now that Mameha told him about her friendships with the high-ranking officials. One misstep and perhaps some of the foundations for the alliance that he'd carefully laid out might come toppling down.

"Actually, princess, I was looking for you," He said, taking a tentative bite out of a squishy dessert that he could pinch in between his fingers. To his surprise, it was filled with a delicious strawberry and a bean paste.

She raised both her brows, putting down the cup of tea she'd been about to sip. "Oh? I apologize, then. If I'd heard you were looking for me, I wouldn't have set out so far from the keep. My attendants have been very busy, I wasn't made aware."

"No, no…" Koumei scratched the back of his head, not really knowing what to say. "I hadn't thought of informing your attendants beforehand. I only thought of it this afternoon, really."

Sayuri nodded slowly. Then she smiled, "Well, it's been a while since we last spoke."

Surprisingly, there were about a dozen things buzzing in his mind about the First Princess, and about a few dozen more things he wanted to _ask_ the First Princess, but he settled for the easiest, simplest one: "Princess Mameha told me that you would know about the architecture of the summer palace. I wanted to know more."

To his surprise, the princess chuckled and with a wave the attendants cleared some of the food and plates they'd used. She whispered something into the ear of that handmaiden—Fuu, was it?—and the handmaiden bustled away, and Sayuri turned her attention back to him.

"You would have done better by asking my father, the King," She said, not unkindly. Koumei was minutely surprised again at the positive reception his question seemed to have, before she went on, "but I'll tell you, if you want to know."

And she spoke of the keep, first, because that had been the first thing to be planned.

"Centuries ago, a Jishouan king had the idea to build a fortress in the mountains…"

She spoke of the stonemasons, the woodcutters and the local lord who had come together to see the castle built, and when that was finished, he asked, "But that was only the keep. When were the turrets, the gates, the storehouses, the maze of paths built?"

Sayuri seemed altogether not surprised when he asked that question.

 _A question befitting a Kou prince,_ Koumei thought sardonically. But instead she shrugged, going on to tell him about the civil wars that followed, without any scruples. Then she spoke about the palace's unified design, the keep's gently sloping roofs, its great wooden pillars, its thousand straw mats, its temples, its pavilions, its wells.

Koumei found her to be _far_ more informed than he'd expected; talking to her, and by the end of it, he surprised himself when he felt that he'd genuinely enjoyed the conversation they'd shared. She'd shared her knowledge freely, willingly, and all because he'd simply asked.

When he looked up at the sun, he found that it was setting fast into the waning day sky; Across from him, Sayuri waved again and all the food they'd eaten and all the tea they'd drank was cleared away. They both stood, and for a moment they were both locked in silence, having not expected the afternoon to play out the way it did.

The princess opened her mouth, "Ah…"

"…um." the same time he did.

Koumei flushed, reaching up to pat the back of his head. Sayuri furrowed her brows, before she broke out in a laugh. In a decidedly unprincess-like fashion, she bit her lip as she stared at him, looking the slightest bit perplexed as to what to say next. He didn't blame her; he felt dry-mouthed himself, a little bit wishing that they could continue their conversation but also knowing that if they didn't return to the keep now, night would fall soon.

He sensed that there were still a number of things (to say the least) he could ask her, a few of which might even be instrumental in forging the alliance between both their countries.

Koumei didn't quite know how to put his request into words. But he was saved the trouble of doing so, when the princess stepped beside him and lightly said, "I haven't told you about the trees and birds that live around the keep, have I?"

Seeing what she meant, he quickly played along and said, "I don't believe so."

With a quick curve of her lips, she nodded. "If you have the time tomorrow, you'll be more than welcome in joining me for tea again in the afternoon."

"You honor me, Princess Sayuri."

* * *

She was twenty-three, a year older than him.

"She's practically a spinster, my lord," His ambassador complained by his side that night when he found Koumei reviewing all sorts of records and written testimonies kept in the embassy about the First Princess of Jishou.

She was twenty-three and had been married off at _fourteen,_ to a land even farther east than Jishou, where she had one day been expected to be the queen. She was the polar opposite of a spinster, and Koumei felt his patience grow thin at the wheedling tone his ambassador apparently preferred to use.

Koumei tried to hide his growing irritation. He barely restrained himself from snapping at the official, but his voice was less than friendly when he finally spoke, "She's been married once, if you did your job about knowing the way of things here, you would know that."

Sufficiently chastised, the ambassador pitifully sputtered, "But I-I do know, my lord, I simply didn't mean it tha—"

"Your comments are valuable but sorely unneeded at the moment. Please, leave."

She was twenty-three, married at fourteen, widowed at eighteen. And she'd been back in her homeland for five years now, doing—who knew what, for who knew what reason. The records his ambassador kept about her were nearly non-existent.

 _If only I could get information straight from the source all at once,_ he privately mused. But soon even he retired, cleared his bed of all the scrolls, and blew the lamp by his bedside. Nights like these reminded him of his older brother, who always toiled late into the early hours of the morning but still manage to look presentable the next day.

He sighed to himself as he lay down. Finally Kouen would be departing for Jishou soon, and he could share his worries in person to him at last.

* * *

The First Princess had let her long hair down again that next day. This was not a common practice in Kou, and from what he had seen in court, neither was it common in Jishou; even Hakuei, his lady step-sister who liked to let her hair down whenever she could get away with it, arranged her hair in loose pig tails and bound them with jewelry at the very least.

Thus far he hadn't even seen Sayuri with any kind of jewelry, or any other ornamentation really; although she clothed herself in fine silks, she armed herself with nothing more than her conversation.

Today she waited for him in the same garden, albeit at a shaded spot by the lake; above her, the mountain wind blew and swayed the long branches of a willow tree. He joined her at the rug and tea setting already laid out for them.

"Prince Koumei, may I ask you a question?"

He'd been about to pop another one of those strawberry treats she'd offered him yesterday. He put the treat down, blurting, "Any question, princess."

She smiled at his answer. She poured herself a cup of tea and brought the drink to her lips as she said, "Have you been sleeping well in the palace? Forgive me for the intrusiveness of the question, but…"

Koumei felt himself go red. He knew what she saw; dark circles smeared the skin underneath his eyes and pimples mottled his cheeks. He was then babbling _no no no no no this is through no fault of Jishou's, I just really have poor sleeping habits and my face has always been like this…please don't concern yourself, princess, I just like reading late until sunrise and I have poor self discipline and…_

"I—ah."

Across him, the _princess_ was turning a bit pink herself. His babbling died down as he realized this slowly, and it almost started again as he began to apologize—

"No! No! Please, you don't have to apologize. I was—concerned. Perhaps the servants around your room had been too noisy, or the…floorboards too squeaky."

This had been the first time he'd seen her composure melt away, and despite himself, Koumei laughed at the absurdity of the situation. The princess chuckled with him, and she continued to drink the tea she'd prepared for both of them.

"Now, do you really want to talk about the birds around the keep? I can name a few, mostly the noisier ones. I do wonder if they're any different from the birds in Kou."

Glad for the change, Koumei readily welcomed her steering of the subject. For the first time in the duration of his stay, Koumei felt a genuine lopsided smile take over his face, "Do you happen to know any pigeons endemic to the region?"

* * *

"Back from a meeting with the Kou prince, I see."

Sayu didn't look up from the scroll she'd been reading, able to recognize that sly tone of voice anywhere. She sat down by the low table in her room, unfurling some sheets of rice paper, readying her writing utensils and mixing some ink for the reply she was supposed to make.

Nobushiro, her older brother and Crown Prince of Jishou, stood behind her, reading over her shoulder. He mouthed the lines to himself as Sayu lifted her sleeves and dipped a brush into her ink stone, " _Oooh,_ another letter from our dear friend in the Magisterium. If only he wrote me as often."

Sayu shrugged. "He doesn't send me letters as frequently as you think. The magisters have kept him busy, but he says he'll put in an appearance… _imminently._ Not like he even pretends to know what he means by that."

Then, she looked up from her letter. "And Prince Koumei's a nice man, _if you must know._ "

Her brother shrugged again. His trademark nonchalance was sometimes frustrating, but mostly it was amusing. Out of her six siblings, Shiro had always been the one she was closest to; he'd been the one to hold her when she cried about being wed, and he'd been the one to write her constantly when she was shipped off to Caera, isolated from the rest of her family.

"He actually fell asleep while having tea with me and father," And he sardonically mimicked her more feminine voice, "if you must know. I believe it's called narcolepsy."From his own billowing sleeve, he produced two apples, and he placed the other by her inkpot as he bit into his own and she continued writing. He plopped down across from her, lounging in the pillows.

"I asked him about his sleeping habits. Safe to say, Kou gives him too much work and he loses sleep over it. But he truly is rather smart," She stuck her tongue out at him, "smarter than _you_ , without a doubt. You two need to talk more."

"Hey, I wasn't insulting him! Merely…" Shiro gestured helplessly with his other hand, "…telling you an amusing anecdote. Father laughed it off—we also think Kou's given him too much responsibility. We've been lending him every bit of help he could possibly need."

"Doesn't matter if you were being mean, he _is_ genuinely smart. You could stand to learn a lot from an imperial prince like him."

He groaned. "That's what all the old geezers in the palace whisper to me, please stop. And it's not like I can just walk up to him! He's _always_ got tons of work to do, and _always_ retires early. Quite the elusive prey, and very much like you, actually."

"Have you tried challenging him to a duel? Isn't that what men do? The maids tell me he's an adept at swordplay. Not as good as Kouen, though."

"Dear sister," Her brother deadpanned, " _nobody_ will ever be as good as Ren Kouen. And besides—me? Duel with a metal vessel user? Nobuyuki would have a better chance at winning; at least _he's_ a magician. I, on the other hand, am nothing but a humble swordsman."

"Humble swordsman _my ass,_ you're supposed to be the Crown Prince. _"_ Sayu muttered.

He stopped mid-bite to indignantly squawk, "I heard that!"

He took another bite out of his apple, before suddenly sitting up and placing a hand on her wrist.

She looked up to find him staring gravely at her. She huffed as she put her brush down; reaching forward to brush his short silver hair out of his eyes, she wondered what it was _this_ time.

A corner of his mouth lifted when she lifted a strand out of his left eye, but his face soon turned serious once again. "You _do_ know that father wants Mameha to marry him, right."

Sayu rolled her eyes. "Why do you think I've been making the time to speak to him? I've had to shelve some appointments with the ministerial board of trade just to see for myself if Mameha's marrying a prick. An older sister has her responsibilities."

Shiro retracted his hand. He folded his arms, drawing his brows in a frustrated look. "I know."

Exasperated, she cattily sniffed, "Then why did you ask?"

"I just wanted to know what you've been doing the past few days." He looked at her pointedly, "we haven't seen you all too much. Mother and father fret when they only see you during some meals."

She returned to her letter, sighing. "Shiro, I'm a twenty-three year old _widow_ who failed to produce any children in her previous marriage, if you haven't noticed. Most of the appearances the family makes these days have to do with Prince Koumei, and this widow wasn't exactly needed for any of them."

"But you _still_ are a princess of Jishou, yes?"

"Only by technicality," Sayu grumbled, "but believe me, I understand, _father_."

She laughingly dodged the apple he lobbed at her.

* * *

 _My brother and king,_

 _No doubt this missive will reach you just as you begin the journey to Jishou. I would offer blessings of safe passage, but realize the futility in such a gesture._

 _This is meant to be short, because I've secured here several reports that I'd written on a few matters of interest to the empire. I hope they will make for good reading on the ride to Tohouku, at the very least._

 _Lastly, I_ (here there are small drips of ink, as if the writer paused thoughtfully with his brush in the air) _seem to have made a new acquaintance in court. She has shown herself to be an astute source of information, and I believe she may prove useful in the coming weeks of negotiation._

 _I humbly await your arrival,_

 _Ren Koumei_

* * *

The First Princess had suggested they go bird watching the next day, Koumei recalled. So when his attendants slid open the doors to the rooms he'd been given at the summer palace, he was taken off guard when he saw none other than the silver-haired princes of Jishou standing outside.

Nobushiro, the heir to the throne, had his arms crossed with an earsplitting grin that made the hair on the back of Koumei's neck stand on end. Nobuyuki, the younger prince, stood beside him with his arms clasped behind his back, an irritated expression on his face.

"Prince Koumei," Nobushiro greeted with a dangerous twinkle to his eye, "my sister sends her regrets that she can't make it to your engagement this morning."

"Maybe you shouldn't sound so snide when you say that, Shiro," Nobuyuki sighed by the Crown Prince's side. The younger prince looked at Koumei, shaking his head apologetically. "Good morning, Prince Koumei. I hope you don't mind if my sister sent us in her stead."

"…Not at all, Prince Nobuyuki." Koumei cautiously said, alarm bells ringing in the back of his head. If they were both here, with Nobuyuki looking irritable and Nobushiro looking plenty like the cat who'd swallowed the canary, it didn't bode well for the Kou prince.

 _This can't be anything good._

Already he was beginning to regret the decision of waking up that morning.

"Now perhaps we don't have Sayu's charm, but we manage on our own nicely enough," Nobushiro smirked. "I've had word that you're quite the swordsman. So how would you feel about a little friendly bout of sparring?"

* * *

Notes:

Early update. Just a quick treat, because the response so far has been very encouraging! Thank you so much for taking the time to write the kind words and reviews so far, I'll respond to some questions as soon as the next chapter comes out in a while!

(1) The Jie Family: The royal children, from oldest to youngest-The two princes, Nobushiro (27) and Nobuyuki (25); the five princesses, Sayuri (23), Mameha (18) and three other girls who won't really be appearing much (ages 14-10.)

(2) The Triangle: again, it's _way_ east and the only things that come its way periodically are (probably!) merchant ships. We'll talk much about Jishou, obviously; Ariavat and Caera, less so. But they're still rather important.

Please tell me your thoughts so far in a review, if you feel like it; I'll be responding to all your kind comments / questions / suggestions when I post the next chapter. _So until next time!_


	3. Nobushiro and Nobuyuki Jie

**3**

 _Nobushiro and Nobuyuki Jie_

Oh, Sayu didn't have to tell him how smart the Kou prince was. Shiro knew all this on his own judgment; but he knew his sister worried, and so when she (half-jokingly, he also knew) suggested he go challenge Koumei to a duel—he'd had nothing better to do, so he went and did so.

* * *

He'd gone to Sayu's rooms shortly after sundown yesterday; she'd been at her desk again, reading some scrolls.

"Have you canceled your meeting with the Minister of Trade tomorrow morning?"

She looked up. "Shiro," She blinked, waving for him to sit beside her.

He shook his head. "Not staying long—depending on your answer, I may have to visit Yuki right after this."

"Hmm," His sister straightened, tossing back her hair. She regarded him curiously, "does this have anything to do with our conversation this afternoon? I'd already sent word to the minister a few hours earlier."

Shiro nodded. "I'll send a page to wherever he's staying, then. Yuki and I will give the Kou prince your deepest regrets tomorrow—I do hope you're still prepared for that trade meeting."

"My prince," Sayu simpered, "you hurt me with your words. I still have the minister's written briefs, so I'll do just fine of course."

Her pale green eyes narrowed at him. "It's Prince Koumei I worry about."

He grinned and shrugged loftily. "Well, there's nothing you can do about it now, Sayu. Ta-ta, I'm off to see Yuki."

As she went off to retrieve the mentioned scrolls from her cabinets, she'd called, "Don't be too much of an asshole. We _are_ trying to forge an alliance with these people."

And Yuki had had a rather…similar reaction.

"We're doing _what?"_

"Yuki, listen to me, this will present us with the perfect opportunity to—"

" _I'm_ the one you're asking to fight Prince Koumei, you ass."

Ah, _Nobuyuki_ , his sibling. The most ill-tempered one of all the Jie children, no matter how much Yuki tried to hide it. Shiro had soothed, "But his metal vessel's more of a defensive type, correct? And wouldn't it be a wonderful way to test your magical skills, especially since you haven't been getting much practice with the arrival of the prince?"

Yuki's brow twitched. He folded his arms, and frowned deeply at his older brother, "It would be. I just have the tendency to think that anything coming from your mouth is deeply suspicious. Sayu should be here listening to this drivel."

Shiro sputtered, completely at a loss for words at this utter _betrayal_ from his own beloved brother. "S-Suspicious?"

Yuki nodded solemnly. "Suspicious."

…

The older prince had just huffed, deeming this betrayal below him. "Then if you'll join me tomorrow morning, we can see how far you've come with your magic."

* * *

So here they were, at a garden right by the main keep. It had been a short, tense walk from Koumei's rooms in the palace, but Shiro didn't feel at all worried about what was to transpire. The grove was less a garden but more a private enclave, and the grounds had been leveled and fenced, with the grass carefully tended. There were still some decorative elements to the garden, such as a tiny pond filled with carp on one of the corners, and a pavilion by another corner.

This had always been his and Yuki's favorite training ground; no doubt the Kou prince had spied them sparring here from some balcony on the keep one time or another. When they'd been children, this had also been their favorite playing ground along with their other siblings, and he could still remember the times they'd all played hide and seek until sunset.

Then Shiro had grown older and devoted more and more of his time accompanying his father in meetings; then Yuki had found out he was a magician, and his younger brother was packed away and sent to join the Magisterium; then Sayu had gotten engaged and she was packed off and sent far away too, married to some Caeran prince who'd managed to get himself killed anyway.

They were adults now, and had a great number of things to think about.

 _Plenty of things to think about,_ Shiro thought. _Like the man about to marry my precious baby sister._

Shiro clapped his hands and grinned with all his teeth at the Kou prince.

"Prince Koumei!" He exclaimed, placing a hand on the guy's shoulder. Just a few steps behind the foreign prince, Yuki facepalmed, mouthing _stop grinning so much you're going to scare him._

Well, that was the exact same effect he'd been going for anyway.

Shiro continued grinning at Koumei, remarking, "I'm sure you've heard, but my brother's a rather gifted magician."

There was a sudden tangible silence as the foreign prince seemed to pause and process this information.

The two brothers looked at each other as this happened, with Shiro silently exchanging a look of _did he really not know_ and Yuki's reply of _well obviously he didn't_ and Shiro's baffled reply of _just how good is their intelligence really if they didn't know even that!?_

"Is he?"

Shiro's gaze snapped to Koumei as he'd said the words. The Crown Prince stepped back, nodding once at the now keenly interested look in the usually dreary eyes of Ren Koumei.

"As a matter of fact, he wants to challenge you in a magical duel. You use your metal vessel, he uses his magic. And if you would have me, we could have a second round using swords only."

Yuki rolled his eyes but said nothing. He joined Shiro by his side, drawing a simple, jade wand with an ivory handle from inside his robes. He smiled tentatively at their mutual guest, "What do you say, Prince Koumei?"

Silence, again.

Koumei raised a hand to rub the back of his neck, ruffling the already disheveled hair there. "Forgive me, but my metal vessel…isn't really meant for duels. Or most things to do with offense, honestly."

Shiro raised his brows, genuinely curious. "Is that so?"

The foreign prince gave a flustered laugh. "I'm afraid so."

Yuki's forehead wrinkled. "Would you begrudge us a demonstration of your metal vessel's other—"

His voice was muffled by Shiro's hand clamping itself over his mouth. Somehow, asking Koumei for a demonstration of his metal vessel's other capabilities was a route Shiro knew they shouldn't take.

Or at least not yet, anyway; the real arbiter about the matter of information on Kou's metal vessel users would be Ren Kouen, who had yet to arrive. Koumei's embarrassed excuse (which Shiro honestly believed anyway) would have to do for now, and the Crown Prince didn't want to put him in a spot by insisting.

Koumei watched this interaction with faint interest, but Shiro sighed as Yuki quieted and lifted his hand off his mouth with a sour expression.

"If you'll have me, then," He said, gesturing to the straight sword he kept sheathed at his side. "for a duel. Yuki here is a capable spellsword," Shiro winked playfully at his brother, "but naturally _I'm_ the best at swordsmanship in the family."

And so they dueled; it was made apparent to Shiro from the very beginning that he was the superior swordsman, but Koumei was not without his merits—he found him to be surprisingly quick on his feet when he needed to be, and he compensated for his lack of skill in cleverness and instincts.

Their bout didn't last more than five minutes, and when Koumei showed signs of fatigue, Yuki stepped in by throwing up rudimentary borgs to separate the both of them. Shiro watched in fascination as he was lifted up a few feet in the air by a golden dome of magic, before being gently placed by his feet on the ground again.

Koumei was fanning himself with his metal vessel, and the Crown Prince only felt a light pang of regret at not being able to see a magical duel between his brother and the power of a djinn. Shiro offered the foreign prince a hand, helping him up from where he'd tiredly collapsed on the ground.

"Your form could use a little work," He teased, "but I can tell you're well-trained and practice occasionally. You make good use of the head on your shoulders and your instincts." Nobushiro grinned at the sweaty prince full-heartedly, "Well done, Prince Koumei."

Beside Koumei, Yuki gave a small flick of his wrist, and a fantastic wind breezed through their grove.

Often, Shiro forgot Ren Koumei was nearly five years younger than him. And now to see him so undone by a mere five minute spar—it was a far cry from the serious and unyielding diplomat he'd seen during the meetings he went to with his father and the ministers.

This was the man who was going to be marrying his sister, and a man he had no true intention of alienating, when it honestly came down to it. The alliance would soon fade from immateriality and come to bind them all, and now was the time to start building bridges that would help Jishou in the long run.

Besides. Shiro had always liked the smart ones; after all, his own family was positively _filled_ with the astute.

* * *

On their way up from the field and into the keep for lunch, Koumei curiously asked from beside him, "How were you trained, Prince Nobuyuki? There are so few magicians in Kou that all the training is done privately."

 _Few magicians,_ Shiro thought, _like their oracle._

They were now at the crux of the matter.

A glance at Yuki proved he was thinking along similar lines; his younger brother soon replied nonchalantly, "I was trained in the Magisterium in Ariavat. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

"I confess my knowledge to be deficient when it comes to the other countries in the Triangle, unfortunately." There was a sheepish note to that statement, which Shiro had learned to pick up on. So the older prince turned his head to smile at the redhead walking in between them, saying, "Are most people in Kou non-magicians, Prince Koumei?"

Koumei drew his brows. "Yes, that is the case. There are so little of them that we can't fill an entire company of purely magicians only. But our ambassador tells me that there is quite the population of magicians in this region of the world."

"I don't know the exact numbers, but we do seem to make a stout minority in the entire Triangle, for some reason," Yuki replied, "perhaps Sayu could tell you more about it. The rest of the world doesn't have such a concentrated amount of magicians, we're told."

The Kou prince's eyes widened at his younger brother's declaration. "Princess Sayuri? Is she a magician too?"

Shiro shook his head, chuckling. "No, she's just well-informed. One of her closest friends is a rather high-ranking magister, if I'm not mistaken…?"

Yuki scoffed. "Oh yes. They've promoted that fop. Again _."_

"Nevertheless," The Crown Prince shrugged. "I'm sure you'll be meeting him soon. Until then, you can ask Sayu and my brother. Perhaps even me, though I can only answer the more basic questions." He glanced at Koumei again out of the corner of his eye, a smirk curving his lips, "That _is_ what you wanted to gain by agreeing to my duel, yes?"

The younger man laughed a little, covering his face with his fan again and scratching the back of his head. Shiro ploughed on, "Our countries are soon to be allies, and perhaps it would benefit its relationship if even just its royal families would speak to each other a little more openly."

His words seemed to leave an impression on Koumei, who nodded silently.

Shiro exchanged a smile with Yuki, and they continued their trek with a peaceful silence.

* * *

Koumei had been about to write his brother a missive again, before he realized—for the nth time those days—that Kouen had already started the journey to Tohouku a week ago.

So instead he dwelled on the events of the last few days: he'd found himself…spending more time with Jishou's two princes; when he wasn't working or meeting with some important person or another, the two princes would come for him and they'd sit and have tea, have another bout of sparring (much to Koumei's dismay), or talk about several matters. When that happened, he usually left his work to the advisors he'd brought, and he fretted marginally less about them since Kouen was thankfully due soon.

Unsurprisingly, he found Nobushiro to be an intelligent prince, in his own way; although seemingly frivolous and nonchalant most of the time, Koumei knew he had a buried intellect that he only ever used during serious conversation involving matters of state. Nobuyuki was the less gleeful of the two, the more pensive one; he was more reserved, but spoke readily when prompted.

Today he'd gone to see their sister, Princess Sayuri; he hadn't seen her in yet another long while, and Nobushiro's words about the Magisterium— _until then, you can ask Sayu—_ had rung in his mind with a peculiar kind of urgency.

But when he asked for an audience, her retainers had apologetically refused.

"She's out for the day, but we will send word of your request when she returns, Prince Koumei."

And that was how Nobushiro and Mameha had found him, on his way back from the First Princess' rooms. Mameha smiled, obviously delighted at his appearance, but it didn't come close to rivaling the size of Nobushiro's toothy grin.

By then, Koumei already knew to take that as a sign of the Crown Prince plotting something. Hopefully, he wasn't going to ask for another round of sword fighting. The Kou prince didn't feel particularly in the mood that day.

"Prince Koumei, what a lovely surprise," Nobushiro remarked, "were you on your way to Sayu's rooms? They're the other way around."

"Good afternoon, Prince Nobushiro," He nodded respectfully at Mameha, "Princess Mameha. I was seeking for an audience with Princess Sayuri, but it seems she's out."

"Oh, we were just on our way there!" Mameha said, "We've come to pick up a few things of my sister's, actually. She went to an all day meeting at one of the minister's homes."

The girl excused herself, heading for the aforementioned rooms. Nobushiro snapped his fingers at that exact same instant, as if a brilliant idea had just occurred to him, "Why don't you come with us, Prince Koumei? Minister Feng owns a splendid beachside manse—they're holding a banquet in the evening, I'm sure you'll find it wonderful."

* * *

Koumei soon found himself stuffed into a carriage, pushed up against the carriage wall while the two princes of Jie wrestled for space beside him.

" _Shiro your elbow is digging into my side—"_

"— _I don't give a damn about my elbow move your stupid knees out of the way!"_

Across him, Princess Mameha giggled into her sleeve. She'd earlier offered him a seat beside her, but the death stares Nobushiro and Nobuyuki had leveled at him—plus the propriety of how a situation would look—was more than enough for him to respectfully decline.

Five minutes later, they managed to reach a marginally more comfortable position. Nobushiro turned to him, "Sorry, Prince Koumei, but I insisted we use this carriage so we could get down to the beach faster."

"Ah, no, it's perfectly alright, Prince Nobushiro."

"This is your first time going down to the beach, am I right?" Mameha asked with a smile.

Koumei nodded a little. "I haven't really had the time…"

Nobushiro wagged his finger. "It's good that I caught you out in that hallway! We would've left you at the palace otherwise, and you'd never see the white sand beaches of Tohouku."

"We should've left Prince Koumei alone, Shiro, I'm sure he has work to do." Nobuyuki called from behind his older brother. He glared at the Crown Prince for a moment before turning to look concernedly at him, "I hope my brother hasn't caused you too much trouble bringing you here."

"What—? Hey! He came with us out of his own volition!"

"He was just being _polite_ , you idiot."

When their argument devolved into bickering, Koumei turned to Mameha. She just shrugged, laughing.

* * *

They arrived at the banquet with much pomp and pageantry; as expected, a flock of noblemen and merchants eagerly greeted the arrival of the royal family…plus the Kou prince.

To his shock, the Jie siblings stuck to him as they navigated the crowd; he'd been fully expecting them to abandon him and do whatever it was they'd wanted to do in the banquet. They kept a conversation afloat, too; the minister had come to greet them, and when he had bid the silver-haired siblings to have a wonderful time, Koumei was surprised when the minister treated him with equal kindness and respect—the official pointed the way to a table unexpectedly far out in the back, saying that was where Sayu had retired to after the meeting.

They found her sitting alone at a low table already set with pillows, fresh food, and drink, and Nobushiro went forward to snatch the cup she'd been about to tip back into her mouth and sniffed it.

"And just what exactly are you doing with a cup full of araq this early in the evening?"

Sayuri looked up at her brother with an expression so cold it could freeze water, "A small celebration. That araq you're holding is part of the latest shipment from Ariavat. And I've already had a cup, thank you."

"You may have been married already, sister, but you're too young and too brilliant to fall into the trap of alcoholism," Nobushiro winked and downed the cup himself. "I would also rethink appearing drunk in front of the Second Imperial Prince of Kou."

The older princess then blinked, gazing to where he stood beside Mameha and Nobuyuki. She rose, and she looked pleasantly surprised to see him there. "Prince Koumei! Welcome."

Koumei just returned her smile, although he was beginning to feel a little tired. "I sought an audience with you earlier, but your attendants said you were out. Hence…this."

Nobuyuki waved for Koumei to sit between him and Sayuri, saying, "I genuinely hope you aren't uncomfortable spending the night like this, Prince Koumei." He turned to Sayuri, "Shiro found the prince outside your rooms and invited him."

Again, despite the tiredness crawling up to him, he respectfully waved off Nobuyuki's concern. "Really, this is no problem, Prince Nobuyuki."

Both he and Sayuri sat down, and across the table Mameha settled beside her eldest brother. Nobushiro pushed a few dishes his way with a grin.

* * *

While the brothers and even Mameha—whose noblewomen friends had come to the banquet—wandered off into the night eventually, Sayuri stayed with him. At first he'd felt guilty, wondering if his fatigue was that apparent and caused her to stay behind to look after him. But she'd merely laughed off his concerns, saying, _I've come from a six hour meeting. I'm just as tired as you are, Prince Koumei._

When he'd accidentally dozed off, she'd said nothing until he spoke about it.

"Did I—did I fall asleep?—Forgive me, Princess Sayuri _—"_

She looked up from the scroll she'd been reading for the past hour. Surprisingly, she just shrugged. "I don't mind, Prince Koumei." She unfurled the scroll even further to read a passage, "Shiro did you a disservice by bringing you here when you need the rest."

Koumei had been speechless for a few moments. He recovered with, "If I may ask, Princess—if you were tired, why didn't you return to the palace?"

She looked up from her reading. Then she laughed sheepishly—"I wanted to stay for the food. Minister Feng's cook is Caeran, and they _did_ receive a shipment from Ariavat, so I figured they'd have food from there too. I'd already sent a missive for my siblings to come down the mountain and join me by the time I realized I was bone tired."

She pushed toward him a cup of tea and a plate of desserts. Sayuri winked at him, pointing at the desserts. "It has strawberries in them."

Koumei flushed. "…Thank you, Princess."

Now that they were alone—and with the volume of a typical Jishouan celebration playing at full blast in the background—he found his eyes straying to her, the only truly familiar thing within the vicinity. He observed her reading her scroll: perhaps he'd never really noticed before, but Sayuri's silver hair reached well past her shoulders and shared Mameha's bright shade; Nobushiro and Nobuyuki's hair was steely in color, but the princesses' hair had a whiter, more delicate shade to it.

Her eyes were paler too; lovely and attentive, and like something approaching jade, compared to Mameha's dark forest green eyes.

She looked up from her reading, and Koumei shoved a strawberry treat in his mouth. Abashed, he looked away as he swallowed and said, "What is it you're reading?"

"It's a—a...trade report."

She'd been reading the same scroll the entire night.

"It must be a lengthy report…"

Koumei turned to face her again. Unexpectedly, her face was suddenly pink.

"Princess, your face is—"

At that moment, Nobushiro passed by their table to have a sip at Sayuri's tea. As he stood behind her and crouched to drink from her cup, he barked a laugh. "Oh, Sayuri, you still can't be reading _that."_

Realizing her brother had read her scroll, she hastily tried to roll it up. "W-What? Reading what?"

Just like earlier however, he easily snatched the article out of her hands and teasingly held it out of her reach. "You _do_ know that in all the books—half is an outright pack of lies, and the other half is embellishments?"

Koumei looked at the First Princess. She had her arms crossed, and her face was as red as a tomato. Chin up in the air, she turned her cheek at her brother. She said, rather petulantly, "I do know, thank you. But I haven't been out of the Triangle for _months_ , Nobushiro, and a girl needs to keep up with the world somehow."

"Reading _The Adventures of Sinbad_ will only misguide you about world events. If you really wanted to leave, I could've wheedled father into sending you on a diplomatic mission to Reim, for god's sake."

When Nobushiro left with a snicker, Koumei had no idea what to say. Her cheeks were still red, but she seemed ready to speak to him, at least.

 _Sinbad._ That was a name he'd never expected to be mentioned in Jishou—let alone in relation to the First Princess, who seemed the sensible type to not buy into the idealistic musings and legend of a man like _Sinbad._

Perhaps there was one easy explanation for this: "Have you met King Sinbad before, Princess?"

She shook her head vigorously, laughing. "Ah, no. I just genuinely read his stories because they span tales from the entire globe."

Koumei drank his tea. "You seem greatly interested in the rest of the world."

She bit her lip. "I am—very much, really. I accompany the Minister of Trade to renegotiate treaties sometimes, and I've been to some places in the last few years. I love to travel." Here she rolled up her scroll, tucking it in the folds of her ornate robe. He watched her pat her chest, where she'd put the scroll close to her heart.

The idea…was obviously very close to her.

"Though aside from travel within the Triangle, I usually don't wander too far."

She took a bite out of something flaky with nuts, and he could hear the soft _crunch_ as she offered him a new piece of the same pastry. The First Princess then said: "But what about you, Prince Koumei? As a prince of an empire, I expect you've been to a lot of places."

His stories came out reluctantly at first, because he was unused to storytelling, being more of a listener himself—but he nonetheless told her: she listened like a rapt audience, not once interrupting him, only asking him questions when she knew he was finished.

Then Nobushiro had come back and slapped the both of them on their backs, speaking rapidly about a merchant he wanted both of them to meet—

—then an uncharacteristically drunken Nobuyuki had pulled them out of their seats, half-stumbling and half-dragging them to where Nobushiro wanted them to go.

Mameha had come somewhere along the way, fretting about her drunken older brother.

And Sayuri had started laughing about what was happening. Then _all_ the siblings had been laughing.

Somehow at the end of it Koumei had found himself laughing _with_ them _._

* * *

If he'd ever been in his right mind at all that day, he would've politely refused the First Prince's invitation the moment he'd suspected what was going to happen. The hangover was enough for him to rethink last night's events.

The summer sun was too bright. Perhaps one of Jishou's master builders could build some shutters over his window.

Or he could use Dantalion to transport the entire palace to rest beneath a large tree. That would work just as fine—he'd just have to use a _very_ large tree.

His thoughts were running away from him, but soon he sighed as he stared up at the ceiling.

The Kou prince reflected: when his father the emperor had given him this duty on the eve of his twenty-first birthday, Koumei had fully expected it to be like any other duty he already fulfilled. He expected that when the time came to personally visit Jishou and argue for Kou's side in the alliance, he would go and accomplish everything that was expected of him and be done with it.

But things were not so cut and dry when he actually arrived.

First, he'd greatly underestimated the amount of work to be done.

Second, when he stepped foot for that first time in Tohouku, he'd found that everything he actually knew about Jishou and the Triangle was either lacking or completely false—and so he'd had to lean on the manyresources the Jishouan government had graciously given him.

An image of the silver-haired princes of Jishou flashed before his eyes— _until then, you can ask Sayu and my brother. Perhaps even me, though I can only answer the more basic questions…_

…Next he saw an image of Princess Sayuri that night, laughing and looking flustered about how fond she was of _The Adventures of Sinbad._

He groaned. Of _course_ , lastly, he'd never expected to be so charmed by the country itself. The places, the culture…the people.

Not for the first time, he questioned what it was the emperor truly wanted by allying themselves with this island nation. It was not simply neutralizing a future threat to Kou; if they were, Kou wouldn't go to these lengths—to suggest a marriage alliance, even—and they certainly wouldn't send both Kouen and Koumei when their time would be better spent making war preparations.

He wondered, not for the first time either, if Nobushiro, Nobuyuki, and Sayuri knew what it was the emperor truly wanted, because Koumei could only guess at it.

He sighed as he sat up from bed, fanning himself with Dantalion. Nobushiro had been handing him cup after cup of "araq" last night, after he'd been forced (out of politeness!) to participate in the First Prince's boisterous challenge of, as he had put it, _I bet I can drink all you suckers under the table—except you of course, Mameha. You go watch for when Yuki falls over._

Being already drunk, Nobuyuki had been the first to bow out of the competition. Rather pitifully, Nobushiro—why on earth did Koumei for a second believe in his confidence—had been the second to go.

And being a "hardened" military man who'd spent years around boozing soldiers, Koumei had a rather high tolerance for alcohol himself. So when it was down to him and Sayuri, he'd thought the contest would end soon, and he would return to his rooms and wake up the next morning with less of a hangover than he had now.

But she surprised him even on that front. In fact—he never would've guessed her to have such a legendary tolerance, not when she was a slender princess who was smaller than him. And yet she came out on top anyway, if only by a sliver of a win.

The Kou prince reached for the bucket of water he knew was by his bed, ladling himself some of the drink.

But his peace didn't last.

 _It never does, these days._

His doors slid open, and there were the Jie siblings from last night again, bringing him trays full of food and fresh pots of tea. Apology after apology came about what had transpired last night, but again they started laughing when they recalled Nobuyuki being the first to pass out.

"You drank _way_ too much, brother mine," Nobushiro teased. That morning he looked physically untouched by the side-effects of their late night drinking contest, which was more than Koumei could attest to.

Nobuyuki snapped, "They gave me two cups of a clear drink at that party! How was I supposed to know it wasn't water but araq!?"

"Didn't it taste different the second time you drank a cup?" Mameha said with a giggle.

Beside Koumei, Sayuri sighed, exasperated. But having many siblings himself, the redhead could tell it was more of an affectionately exasperated sigh. She poured them both cups of tea, and he graciously thanked her when she handed him his.

"Are we disturbing your morning?"

Koumei shrugged. "Not at all."

This time, he wasn't saying it out of politeness.

* * *

Notes:

Quick update (again) but this'll be the last in a while. I _swear,_ all reviews will be responded to when I post the next chapter—but that doesn't mean I haven't been reading and tearing up over them (thank you guys so much for taking the time to write me nice things.) Thank you all very much, also, to the people who have followed and favorite-d this story!

(1) Between you and me, Koumei is just lonely lol. He's used to having his siblings around, but now he's alone in a foreign country, out on a diplomatic mission and waiting for his brother to arrive. (Then come the Jie siblings.)

(2) Araq (since it keeps getting mentioned) _does_ look like water, because it's a clear alcoholic drink made from anise. You're supposed to drink it with some portion of water mixed in, which makes the drink turn a milky white. (Obviously, Nobuyuki didn't know what he was doing.) It's also a _very_ old drink, pretty strong (but I love drinking it) and the traditional alcoholic beverage in modern territories of the fertile crescent.

(3) Sayu doesn't actually know it was Sinbad she met in the prologue, yup. Conversely, Sinbad doesn't know it was Sayu he met in the prologue (he was semi-drunk/drunk, remember?) I'LL EXPLAIN THIS LATER I SWEAR.

(4) Kouen (finally) in the next chapter.

Anyway, _please_ write me some reviews if you've anything to say, it would be helpful (and actually super fun) to know what you all think. Thanks for reading this far!


	4. The Crown Prince of Kou

**4**

 _The Crown Prince of Kou_

Perhaps future court poets would describe the arrival of Ren Kouen from Rakushou as a hawk descending on its prey—or as Kou descending on its prey.

This was what Kou wanted, to be sure: to be allied with Jishou. For reasons still unknown to her, or to her brothers, Kou wanted this alliance and would get it, even at the expense of one of their marriageable heirs, trade concessions, and perhaps even a bit of face. The Kou Empire did not make allies; it _conquered._ Kou had always subjugated other countries with the might of their military.

And Jishou was now the exception to decades of ruthless invasion.

"Perhaps we should talk to Koumei about this someday," Shiro quietly mused; they'd met in his sitting room, just minutes after dawn. He had known she and Nobuyuki would be awake, so he'd sent for them to have breakfast with him—after all, the same worries plagued them as the eldest siblings in their family.

He was sitting on his floor cushions, straight-backed and with a cup of his bitterest tea in his hands, eyes closed and head tilted towards the ceiling. He was already dressed in one of his finer robes, ready for the Crown Prince of Kou's arrival only hours from now.

Sayu herself had a cup of tea from the same pot. She said nothing as she looked at the steaming cup waiting for her on the table absently; in the background, she could hear the smooth and even sounds of Yuki's brushstrokes as he wrote his lengthy letter.

The rhythmic sounds never broke pattern even as Yuki spoke, "Yes. That sounds like a _great_ idea. Talk to Prince Koumei about how maybe the only reason we even agreed to this alliance was because Kou would have invaded the Triangle otherwise, and for our peaceful refusal to become their subjects, Caera and Ariavat would have been forced to aid and eventually perish along with us."

It was not quite grumbling, and Sayu thought the grim humor didn't suit Yuki very well.

Shiro sighed, eyes still closed, "And why not? We've taken him into our confidence. It only seems right that we should share our worries with him. It would be nice to hear what one of Kou's princes thinks personally about this alliance."

Her eldest brother then opened his eyes, blinking. He looked to her, his brows drawn. "Sayu, you've been quiet this entire time. Is there something troubling you?"

She shook her head. Her tea was still steaming away, and she idly waved a slow hand over the grey wisps rising from the warm porcelain of her cup. "Nothing."

They'd already voiced most of her worries, anyway; the last weeks of negotiation were finally closing in, and with it the betrothal and official announcement of Jishou's alliance to Kou. Both Caera and Ariavat had already known and acknowledged this even since the beginning stages of these deliberations—yet she couldn't shake off the feeling that with this move, their country's history would be embarking on a new course, one that she frankly felt was irreversible.

She had a feeling everyone in the room knew that too. And that they were all just coping in their own strange, idiosyncratic ways, patiently biding their time in each other's company until they would be called to the docks to receive Ren Kouen and his retinue.

Yuki's brush stopped, and she heard him approach both her and Shiro at the low table. He sat down, mouth with a pensive set to it, but not speaking. Without prompting, Shiro poured him some tea as well.

The three siblings looked at each other. They locked stares, and with some tacit agreement that they'd kept ever since they were children, they understood that there was no turning back now, and that perhaps every decision they made from then on would be doubly important.

Then they looked at their tea cups.

Yuki looked aghast at Shiro, now knowing why they hadn't even finished a single pot of tea that morning.

Shiro sighed again, this time more audibly and with more than a hint of chagrin. Sayu playfully slapped him on the shoulder—Yuki looked at her with an irritable expression, conveying _can you believe this guy?_ and they both rolled their eyes at their older brother.

"You chose this infusion Shiro, we might as well finish it."

Shiro pouted at her. "It was an honest mistake. I thought it was the darjeeling that Minister Feng gave me at the banquet."

"…All the same," Yuki interjected haltingly, circling the rim of his cup with a finger, "maybe we… should finish our cups at least. If not the pot. You know father hates it when we don't even bother trying the products from all over the country."

A moment of silence passed.

" _Fine,"_ Shiro whined.

And, looking at each other intently—making sure they were all going through with their new agreement—they lifted their cups and drank the same bitter tea with tears in their eyes as the drink seared their pipes.

The doors to Shiro's rooms slid open, and they paused in their drinking to cough and stare at their new visitor. It was Mameha, dressed in new robes and a coat made of such fine silk it practically streamed from where it hung on her young shoulders.

There was a brilliant grin on her face as she bustled into the room, and the three eldest siblings rose to greet her as they did away with the rest of their tea and tried to match her happiness with their own pained smiles. Their younger sister twittered ecstatically, "Father's summoned you all; a hawk just arrived from one of the approaching ships."

She spotted the pot of tea on Shiro's table, and the expressions on her siblings' faces. Rather innocently, she asked, "Were you having tea? Mind pouring me a cup?"

They all shook their heads in unison.

* * *

The summer palace had been abuzz with gossip in the past week, but the ride to the docks was considerably more peaceable. Sayu and her two older siblings had been allowed to ride with their father on the way there, and they'd talked amongst each other about the newest developments. Yuki had talked at length about his magical studies, and the court in Ariavat; Sayu had chosen to speak about their trade and political footholds in Caera; Shiro had talked about local Jishouan politics, and the many improvements he wished to make once they finished their negotiations with Kou.

Their father had been very seriously pleased as they finished relaying their pieces—so when they exited the carriages and assembled to formally receive Ren Kouen, the three siblings had been in a remarkably lighter mood than when they'd eaten their breakfast early that morning. They greeted Koumei with grins as he climbed out of his own carriage, and they were all surprised to see his answering smile.

"Your brother's arrived," Sayu remarked lightly; they walked in step as they approached the far end of the docks, where a Kou ship waited for them. She watched Koumei's magenta eyes flicker to her briefly, before returning to happily trace the familiar insignias of his homeland that were printed proudly on banners the Kou soldiers bore.

He replied simply with, "I know."

Later, all three of the Jie siblings stood silently behind their father. Being the First Prince, Shiro stood at the center, with his two younger siblings standing a few ways behind and flanking him. Their green eyes curiously watched in unison as a tall man finally emerged from the ship's depths, walked silently off the gangplank and set foot on the docks of Tohouku.

"A bit overdressed, isn't he?" Shiro murmured absentmindedly as his own eyes followed the new prince's steps. Yuki elbowed him, but to Shiro's credit, he didn't even flinch; the attack didn't wipe the crooked smile off of his face either.

Koumei seemed both happy and relieved to see his brother. His face usually didn't betray much, but she'd learned to read him, and could see from where she stood that his eyes were wide open, gladdened at the sight of the Kou ship and the prince that disembarked from it. The sleepy prince had been considerably less gloomy in the last few days thanks to their sibling efforts, but it held no comparison to the liveliness he was displaying now.

Finally Kouen—with Koumei dutifully by his side—stepped up to face their father, who gave him a customary greeting. He was deathly polite and showed due respect; the king was pleased by this, they could tell, and then he sidestepped to introduce them with a fond smile. They all clasped their hands and inclined their heads lightly in respect, and this new prince scrupulously returned the gesture.

Shiro was the one to speak for them, and his voice didn't deviate at all from its characteristic lightness as he formally introduced himself and then said, "Welcome, Prince Kouen." He freed his hands to gesture a bit at his sides. "These are two of my siblings, the Second Prince, Nobuyuki, and the First Princess, Sayuri."

At the mention of her name, Sayu lowered her hands.

Ren Kouen was a broad and imposing man. His hair was the color of crimson, much redder than Koumei's, bearing the gold headdress of the Crown Prince of Kou; he wore many layers of red and white on his impressive frame, with a sword sheathed at his side and a black cape bearing the open maw of a metal lion pauldron over his shoulders.

She fought the slight surprise she felt at this.

He was—certainly something. In the weeks of anticipation and noblewomen gossiping about the absolute _perfection_ that was Ren Kouen, the impassive man now a few feet away from her seemed even larger than the many myths she'd heard about him. Warrior, general, and—royalty. He'd fought many wars, brought many nations to its knees, and was surely raised in all the subtle and not-so-subtle machinations that thrived in politics.

And lest she forget: he was also a dungeon capturer. How a person managed to achieve so much in such a short time—she didn't know. Only in Kou, she supposed.

She was reminded of the complete eeriness of their alliance again.

A thousand thoughts twisted and untangled themselves in her mind, and she tried shoving all the stray ribbons of thought in a neat box, deciding now was not the time to feel unnerved about the massive strength and influence of the Kou Empire.

His narrow red eyes swept over her after Shiro said her name. She made sure to smile mildly at him.

She found herself struck by the pure intelligence behind his stoic gaze.

 _Smile,_ she thought. And she did so, effortlessly.

The moment passed and soon enough he turned away, and instead it was the beast on his gold belt that mirrored a grin back at her, monstrous and grotesque.

Sayu knew not to take the strangely solemn occasion of their first meeting as an omen for the coming negotiations—so she retained her thoughtful silence, when she and her brothers rode back to the palace in a different carriage. Despite having ample space for a few more people, it felt crowded by its occupants and the size of their own separate contemplations.

* * *

"Jishou has no plans of wedding their younger princesses."

After his brother's arrival, the king had graciously left them to do their own devices. There was a banquet to be held in Kouen's honor, of course, but that would be later in the night; now, it was only a few languid hours into the gray morning. On another day, Koumei would've wanted to spend the free time napping or perhaps having tea with the Jie siblings, but today he wanted to brief his brother on everything he had learned and achieved so far in Jishou with the utmost thoroughness.

Kouen was currently seated in his usual chair; the royal family had also provided Kouen with a generous suite of rooms right beside his, but all the paperwork and mess was in Koumei's temporary study. His brother's eyes rapidly scanned the documents Koumei had prepared.

Koumei continued, "And they've refused to consider a marriage involving Kouha, Kougyoku or Hakuryuu. They've alluded to being open to a match with Lady Hakuei or our older half-sisters—"

"—But it seems their mind is already set on another match."

The younger prince stopped at his brother's declaration. Then he conceded, "Yes. To an extent."

They were, of course, referring to the match between him and Princess Mameha.

Kouen looked up from the desk. He set his elbows down on its surface, weaving his fingers together. After a few moments of apparent ruminating on this topic, he then said with his eyes closed, "Tell me about this informant you've gained."

Narrowly surprised at the abrupt change in subject, Koumei swallowed. His attitude towards his "informant" had changed in the last few days—perhaps because he'd come to regard her as more than just an acquaintance, unlike how he'd originally done in his letter.

Admittedly, she was less of an informant but someone he'd come to deeply enjoy talking to. Yet still that was only the shallow end of the pool when it came to the strangest thing about the political climate of Jishou.

Koumei said, with his forehead wrinkling, "The last month has been…telling, brother. After spending some time here, I've come to realize there are no secrets in this country."

Kouen opened his eyes to look at him. "How so?"

So he proceeded to tell him what had dogged him his entire stay: "While the king hasn't exactly provided me with everything, he hasn't denied me anything within reason either. I've tried several times to search for specific pieces of information—such as information about the Magisterium, for example—but the failure to gather anything of note has _never_ been because the Jishouan government has refused to be forthright, but because either I've failed to ask specifically for it, or because the records I would've liked to see just genuinely don't exist."

The younger prince stood by the window of his study, looking out at the magnificent view afforded by the mountain. He distractedly fanned himself with Dantalion, "I've been attended to every step of the way. And while it certainly doesn't seem wise from someone else's standpoint—it's just been quite different. Even the royal family has been very accommodating."

He'd been mistaken when he'd written that missive about having a new "informant" because there truly was no need for informants at all—not when the king granted him his requests, and the eldest Jie siblings were open to sharing their information with him, and they since became…friends, after a fashion.

Kouen stood, walking to the same window. A corner of his mouth lifted in the barest trace of a smirk, "You've grown attached to this country. That's never happened before."

He sighed. Rubbed the back of his head. "Unfortunately." He tried smiling at Kouen, but it only came out as a grimace. "Believe me, brother, I mourn the departure of my indifference. Maybe you'll be able to help me regain my good judgment."

His older brother merely shook his head. "It's unimportant, for now." He looked out the window momentarily, gazing at the rows of evergreen trees and winding paths making their way down the mountain. "This country _will_ become our ally, as our father commands. Fostering a good relationship even just now will be good for the future. I expect you've become close to the royal family."

Koumei nodded.

"If we have the time, I'd like to get properly acquainted." Kouen turned to him again, and this time the smirk was more pronounced—more smug, more knowing, even. "The First Princess is the informant you spoke about, is she not?"

The younger prince lowered his fan. Eyes wide, he said, "How did you know?"

"A guess. Our inefficient ambassador writes often. He insinuates her scheming to get you to marry her."

He looked away for a moment, feeling his face redden against his will. That was definitely _not_ the kind of meetings he'd been having with her.

He was surprised however, when the expression on his older brother's face became serious again. "She was there when I was received this morning. No other woman from the royal entourage had come, not even their supposed marriage candidate—nor the queen for that matter. They'd brought no other woman but her."

Koumei pursed his lips, measuring his words. There was a proper way to word this special explanation, one that he felt would adequately reflect Sayuri's position in court. "The king—and thus the court—treat her very much like a third prince. She accomplishes many things, mostly on her father's orders, and comes into contact with all sorts of characters from the Triangle. It's been that way since she returned from her previous marriage."

Kouen raised a single, stoic brow. "She's been married, and yet she still retains the title of First Princess?"

His tone almost carried a miniscule amount of disbelief.

"She does."

Koumei didn't know how it came to pass, of course—her past had never really been a topic of conversation. And it was more than conceivable why she would've skillfully avoided that topic too. But it had always remained a small matter of interest to him; perhaps in the spectrum of things he truly wished to find out, it ranked as something rather personally significant—but there had been, of course, many other things for him to do and many other things he and the princess had to talk about.

Yet it stood out against his mind, now that Kouen had pointed it out. Perhaps he'd even ask her about it…as soon as he found the most tactful way to do so.

"Regardless," Koumei looked up at his brother. Kouen clasped his shoulder, and spoke about the many things they still had to finish—the matter of the Magisterium, the alliance treaty, and finally the marriage negotiations, in that order.

They'd been finishing arranging the mess of papers in his study when Kouen had asked him about which paths to take for a walk in the summer palace; unthinkingly, he'd blurted out the directions to the west gardens, and his brother had replied with a quiet "thank you" and walked out before Koumei realized just what he'd done.

He'd seen that short, inexplicably interested glint in his brother's eyes when they'd spoken earlier, the glint that said, _there's something to be found here and I'll have it,_ and before Koumei knew it Kouen would have already ferreted out everything there was to know about that same something—and more.

If he'd given him the directions to the west gardens, he ran the chance of meeting Sayuri.

But who knew, right? Maybe his brother wasn't that curious about how she'd come to be in her position. Maybe his brother would be tired, for once, or would somehow lapse into one of his more irritable moods, avoid all contact with human beings, and escape into the gardens to be alone.

Koumei sighed as he prepared to sleep for the rest of the morning. Kouen was known to be occasionally…blunt, when it came to the things—let alone _knowledge_ —he wanted, but he could also more than take care of himself. Sayuri didn't take offense easily either.

 _It'll be fine,_ he said to himself as he pitched face first into his soft, soft bed. Perhaps this was for the better; he at least didn't have to ask Sayuri any awkward questions this way.

Yup. It'd be just fine, he was convinced. Or was trying to convince himself.

* * *

She was in the west gardens, lounging in her favorite pavilion. She'd been assured that no one would come and disturb her—and she grew even more optimistic at that, as she watched the grey and the clouds roll in.

A light sprinkling of rain soon followed the darkening skies; Fuu had then lit a lantern for her, setting it down by her low table, where her tea setting and not much else sat. That day she'd brought an even smaller number of guards and attendants than usual, so they all stood silently by the pavilion pillars, thoughtfully staring up at the summer skies from their posts.

Fuu sat perched somewhere else, conversing quietly with a guard. Sayu lounged in her rug—it was a sumptuous, beautiful thing, gifted to her before her fifteenth birthday, months after she'd left Jishou for Caera and for her husband. It had come in a special, rush shipment from the Ariavatan capitol, with a note that she still kept close to her today.

Her many pillows were from Ariavat, too—and she lounged and stretched like an especially lazy cat, having eschewed her usual ornate robes for a long pair of pleated pants and a thin-strapped shirt that revealed her arms. Normally she would have kept her modesty by donning her silk coat with its wide, billowing sleeves, but she was in the company of her personal guard and attendants today, having no intention of meeting anyone else. And so her coat lay uselessly by her feet.

With one hand supporting her chin, she used the other to lightly swirl her cup of tea. The lantern nearby provided ample illumination for her reading; and as she sipped and set her cup down, her eyes followed another tale "penned" by Sinbad.

A rustling of armor caught her attention. Several footsteps followed, and Sayu looked up from the scintillating read; of course, who else would be standing there, interrupting her mid-morning relaxation, than their esteemed guest that had only arrived that same morning?

Ren Kouen looked down at her, just as inscrutable as he was when they first locked eyes hours earlier. Behind him, his few guards were also stationed beside _her_ awed guards, and her eyes needed only one cursory sweep of the crowd to find Fuu, petrified and speechless with both intimidation and wonder at seeing her personal crush living and breathing right before her.

Perhaps that had been the reason why no one had forewarned her of Kouen's arrival. His enormous reputation always preceded him.

Gracefully, she sat up from her lounging, and quickly pulled on her coat with a deft flourish. Then she was about to stand with an apology ready, but Kouen stopped her with a small shake of his head—his voice, deep and resounding, was still heard clearly over the din of the rain that was now worsening.

"I was seeking some shade. Please don't get up, Princess."

There was that hitch in his speech—his slight pause at the end— _don't get up…princess._ It almost sounded calculated to her, but she ignored it as she then bid him sit, and she quietly requested her attendants to serve Kouen's guards some tea.

When Fuu drew near her to bring out a new tea setting out of their basket, she mouthed an apology. Sayu had merely smiled in reply, waving away her concern.

Kouen sat slowly across from her, moving some of her pillows out of his way. She curiously watched this as she poured him a cup of her tea.

"It's Ariavatan," She said. She spoke from behind her own raised teacup, "Made with tea, milk, and spices. I hope you don't mind, Prince Kouen."

Around them, both their attendants and guards resettled into silence and their posts. Her wide and sweeping pavilion felt uncrowded again, and she took a sip of her warm drink. The foreign prince took a small sip as well, and she felt a small twinge of satisfaction when his eyes widened and he took a second, longer sip.

When Kouen raised his crimson eyes to hers, the gleeful quip she'd been about to utter died instantly on her tongue.

In the absence of something to say, she instead chose to wait for him to speak.

"I wanted to thank you. Koumei has told me," Her eyes followed the slow, deliberate movements of his hands as he set his tea down by his side, "that you've been helping him in his stay here."

"That's…true, I suppose." She quietly set her own tea down. Now that she was wearing her coat, she clasped her hands again in her sleeves, hiding the way her fingers twitched. Sayu wanted to laugh; it had been a long time since she'd been made nervous in such a way that she wanted to _fidget_. "Prince Koumei asks a lot about Jishouan history, but our archives have always been open to him, so I don't know how much of a help I've been truly."

Her eyes strayed idly to her scroll, still lying unfurled by her side, and she was reminded of that night Koumei had found out she liked reading Sinbad's series.

Sayu pursed her lips. She looked at Kouen again, saying, "There's no need to thank me."

 _Besides, Koumei has done that on his own often enough._

She silently wondered where he was steering this conversation.

Kouen nodded. He then stared at her intently, and Sayu fought the urge to bite her lip at the scrutiny of his dead serious red eyes. He then said, "Tell me, Princess Sayuri. What do you think of this alliance?"

She raised a single brow at his question—but she didn't expect him to explain himself, so she readily answered, "It's a return to our old ties. Jishou was once closely allied to Rakushou—as you've no doubt noticed by now; our cultures have developed along similar lines because of this. It will please a lot of people who have their roots in Kou, but whose families migrated to Jishou long ago."

His dispassionate expression didn't change. He said, "That may be true. But I asked for _your_ opinion." And then he added, "Princess."

She didn't hesitate.

"It's a good alliance, and I'll be glad to see it happen."

He looked unmoved by her simple answer. So Sayu retreated within herself, eyes never leaving his as she reached for her tea and took one long swig.

Her answer was the truth—stripped away of everything else, it would be…good to have this alliance. Good in that there wasn't really much for Jishou to do other than accept the alliance Kou had offered, or else they refuse and war would have followed after.

And who would benefit from that? Nobody, obviously.

 _Wars will always go badly,_ she remembered with a shiver. That had been the single most important thing someone ever uttered to her when she'd been a handsome prince's young wife in Caera— _wars will always go badly, Princess._

Kou's generosity in this alliance was an axe she and her brothers were still anticipating to fall upon their necks, but until then they would cautiously tread through its mores.

Kouen watched her as she put her cup down. Licking her lips, she threw his question right back at him. "How is Kou benefitting from this?"

He didn't even bat an eyelash, didn't even skip a beat. There was a casual, blasé quality to his words as he said, "The Magisterium is our priority."

Sayu felt herself grow still at this statement.

They were searching for not wealth, not resources, not trade, not even extra fodder for their imperialist war machine, but…"The Magisterium?"

She'd known Koumei had had a fixation for the Magisterium, but to hear Kouen say it was _Kou's_ priority? It was both baffling and worrying.

He nodded, but she didn't miss the curious glint to his eyes as he looked at her. "I've been told you know about it."

Her tongue felt heavy with lead. But she managed, slowly, gracefully, to recover and say, "The Magisterium is strictly apolitical, and based in Ariavat," she narrowed her eyes at him, "what does it have to do with anything?"

Ren Kouen smirked enigmatically.

"Everything."

* * *

Notes:

Knock knock. Who's there and why is this transition chapter boring? It's the plot.

New story arc! Also: my responses to all your questions and reviews, soon! Thanks you guys for the overwhelming feedback ;-; this chapter's for all you folks who reviewed, faved, and followed, because I was supposed to update on Tuesday!

(1) I hope people aren't put off by the political overtones; I mean, Koumei and the Jie siblings are friends but their countries (who are engaging in a seemingly tenuous alliance) are still sort of at odds with each other.

(2) I'll be introducing a _very_ important OC as we get into the next arc, and he'll be sticking around for most of the plot. We've talked about him for quite a bit in the past chapters, so hope y'all don't mind (can anyone guess who it is?)

(3) We're starting the next chapter in Kouen's POV. And...we'll be returning to our, uh, "fun" tone.

Anyway, since not much is happening in this chapter, y'all could take the time to ask me any of your questions in a review, if you've got them! Of course, all comments are most definitely appreciated too, so if you've the time, _please_ write me about how this fic is doing so far. Thanks again, everyone, expect a new chapter next weekend!


	5. Apocryphal

**Small update** : I've made some really tiny announcements regarding this fic on the livejournal. More info on my profile!

* * *

 **5**

 _Apocryphal_

Kouen might've understood what it was Koumei felt about this country: standing in the overwhelming silence of the pine trees, underneath a tall wooden gate painted carmine red, a sense of quiet crept up to him.

It was tranquil—in a way. One easily lost their sense of time and space, walking the winding paths of Jishou's summer palace. A thick hedge of evergreens followed everywhere one went, and he'd already passed through countless gates and wells in his (rather aimless) walk.

Even his astute mind couldn't place it; he'd been automatically drawn to Jishou's labyrinthine forest gardens the moment he'd gazed at it, and standing in it now, he'd taken just a moment to properly understand what was happening to him.

A bird warbled in the distance. In the stillness it felt almost as if the flow of time in the mountain had been tampered with; one could walk in circles, thinking they'd been there for minutes, and when they looked up the sun had already fallen and it was dusk—as Koumei told him he'd done many a time.

It was both a strange and fascinating musing, if it were only true. With the power granted by djinns and magi, he wouldn't be surprised. And the Triangle was a mysterious land—perhaps he'd look into it.

Regardless, he privately wondered how many souls had wandered the same mountain, searching for the right path, only to find every twist and bend in the maze they'd taken had led them nowhere. It was a rather good defensive capability of the summer palace, admittedly.

He walked on a little more.

 _Timelessness,_ his mind supplied, while he'd been gazing into a pond full of carp swirling in endless figure eights. That was what Jishou had: from the old mountain palace to the street markets he'd glimpsed in Tohouku, Jishou had managed to stay somehow _timeless,_ living in a bubble detached and floating above the fray of the Kou Empire and Parthevia and Reim and the Seven Seas Alliance. No sense of urgency permeated the lives of the people here, going about their daily lives as if wars weren't being fought, dungeons weren't being raised, and king candidates weren't being chosen—and it was no small wonder Koumei had grown attached to this country, when it was practically living in a world of its own, far apart from the worries and troubles that plagued their homeland.

* * *

He'd gone in search for shade when the rain started, and his cloak was already damp by the time he'd spotted the wide pavilion; even as he neared it, he saw the orange light and the shadows produced by the burning lamp the First Princess kept beside her as she read her scroll.

He'd breezed by her sputtering attendant, coming to stand at the mouth of the pavilion.

Sayuri Jie was lounging on a finely woven carpet, one hand propping her chin as her eyes eagerly followed the lines of her texts. She'd evidently changed out of the robes she'd worn to greet him that morning; instead she wore an informal pair of pants, and a thin shirt that exposed her arms. As she eventually came to realize he'd been standing there for some while, Kouen's red eyes caught the glint of something metal clasped on one of her arms.

She sat up quickly and pulled on a silk coat, but not before he noted the thick cord of gold she wore on her right upper arm, shaped in the likeness of a snake biting its tail, with two rubies for eyes. She pushed her arm through her wide coat sleeve, and the metal ornament was hidden.

"I was seeking some shade," He said, automatically, "please, don't get up."

And he'd tacked on her official title as an afterthought. _Would-be-queen_ would have been more appropriate, or so he'd been told, because she'd married one of the Triangle's crown princes when she was younger.

Another curious thing about Jishou; but Kouen digressed. He knew Sayuri Jie would have the information he sought, for whatever curious reason he wasn't that interested in.

"Have a seat then, Prince Kouen," She replied, with one hand extended at the pile of overstuffed pillows across her. His guards moved, and soon her retinue was serving them tea, to warm them from the rain.

So he sat. Her face was illuminated by the dim orange lamplight—in the gentle light she appeared to him with half her face in shadow, and her green eyes were sparkling with some kind of interest. The same eyes watched amusedly as he moved her cushions out of the way, because he preferred to sit bare on the carpet.

Sayuri was no giggling princess on the cusp of womanhood—no blushing maiden as she gazed upon a prince from a foreign land. He'd met her sister, earlier, when the King had introduced him to the rest of his family—the Queen had bid him hello with a benign smile, but the Second Princess had been so flustered to meet him, her ears had turned red. Her younger sisters had done considerably better, but the gulf separating the First Princess from the Second had instantly been made clear to him then.

 _A third prince,_ Koumei had said about her.

Sayuri said nothing as she poured both of them cups of tea without prompting.

She hid the lower half of her face as she lifted her teacup—it was almost coy, but her eyes were too observant for Kouen to consider her to be such a thing. "It's Ariavatan, made with tea, milk, and spices. I hope you don't mind, Prince Kouen."

He'd liked it, surprisingly—liked the interesting blend of spices and the way it cut through the milk of the tea—but he'd also taken that deeper, second sip with the understanding that with the tea she'd poured him, the formalities had been dealt with, and he was now free to speak.

Kouen had started innocuously enough by thanking her for helping Koumei. Amid her cautious replies, he asked her a harder question, "Tell me, Princess Sayuri. What do you think of this alliance?"

She quirked a brow at this, but she was altogether unsurprised because she easily answered, "It's a return to our old ties."

She went on to explain; he asked her the question a second time, feeling curious about her _true_ opinion.

Sayuri replied, "It's a good alliance, and I'll be glad to see it happen."

It sounded truthful and simple to his ears, but by the slight wrinkle in her forehead, Kouen could tell she was not untroubled by it. Which reflected well enough on Koumei's assessment of her character, if nothing else—Kou was never generous without reason. Only the truly naïve would believe the opposite.

She surprised him slightly when she asked him his own question: "How is Kou benefitting from this?"

The answer was equally simple.

 _The Magisterium._

That ancient magical academy—organization?—hidden away in the desert sands of Ariavat, Jishou's closest ally.

He'd read several texts alluding to the lands in the Triangle as well, most of them commenting on the inherent magical quality of territories found there, which in turn produced a greater number of magicians. The more he'd tried to read on the subject, the scanter and all the more incoherent the information about it seemed to appear—it was a trying puzzle when he'd first stumbled upon it, and he'd temporarily put solving the riddle to rest until Koutoku's intentions for Jishou had provided him with the perfect opening to personally unearth more about the Magisterium.

If the Magisterium predated much of everything else in the Triangle, he'd reasoned—perhaps they'd have the kinds of records he'd been searching for his entire adult life. If they truly werescholars and magicians who'd handed their magical traditions for centuries, then _surely_ they had their own accounts of this world's pre-history.

Or so he hoped.

The sly detail of the Magsterium had over time slowly become one of those pieces he needed, if he wanted to solve the riddle of the _other world._

The First Princess was quiet for a moment when he'd answered. But soon she said, baffled, "The Magisterium?"

He gazed at her intently. "I've been told you know about it."

"The Magisterium is strictly apolitical, and based in Ariavat,"—he knew that, of course—"what does it have to do with anything?"

And here he felt himself smirk, "Everything."

Her eyes were narrowed at him, but Koumei had said he was her informant _._ He knew she would share this information, if only for the understanding she kept with his brother. "Would you tell me more about it?"

Sayuri recognized the silent almost-demand in his words. Perhaps he was being crude—but he couldn't afford to care now, not when his answers could well be within sight.

She took a sip of her tea. Then she shrugged.

"Alright," The First Princess began with a flippant, half-resigned, half-amused tone, "What would you like to know?"

Kouen wondered about her reply, and the easiness with which she answered him. But, undeterred, he continued, "Jishou's ties to the Magisterium—what are they? Do the magisters serve any governments?"

Sayuri clasped her hands, hiding them away in her billowing sleeves. She sat back, brows raised at him, as if she was unexpectedly impressed. "My apologies, that's the first time I've been asked that." She looked away from him, obviously pondering her answer. "They _are_ apolitical, you know. Mostly because the magisters only occasionally dispense advice that's…

"… _sometimes_ useful to the Triangle's rulers. If they serve anyone in the Triangle, they serve everyone. It's a fact."

He dwelled on her hesitation. "Sometimes useful?"

Her eyes flickered to him for a moment, before they gazed elsewhere.

She gave a small nod. "In a way. We rarely hear from those at the top of the Magisterium's pyramid, these days. And the advice has almost always turned out to be tangentially useful in the last few decades." Her distant expression twisted with amusement a bit, "Don't misunderstand; _everyone_ always listens to their advice. We haven't been led astray so far."

That…hadn't really been the answer he'd expected.

He'd maybe expected an arrangement similar to Kou's, where their oracle sometimes played key roles to the great success of their expansion. Or an arrangement identical to Reim's, where their magi exclusively served to maintain the empire. The Triangle not only had a sizeable population of magicians, but a magical _academy_ that was a repository for centuries of knowledge—it should have precipitated the rise of many great magicians, being an _ancient_ institution, but if it did, he'd never heard about them.

Which would be unsurprising, really—but still. There was much to uncover, here.

Glimpsing his puzzlement out of the corner of her eye, her expression turned wry. Her voice was solemn, almost, when she spoke again. "The Triangle hasn't warred with each other—much less anyone outside the alliance—in centuries, so I imagine it's not half as exciting as it sounds."

Mind still whirring on this problem, he shot back, "Give me an example of how useful their advice has been."

The First Princess bit her lip, as if she was withholding a long sigh.

She gave in eventually: "It was the magisters that suggested we form the Triangle. That was half a millennia ago, and by then they'd long separated themselves from any form of politics."

 _And here the Triangle is,_ he understood implicitly in her words, _500 years later._

Reading the understanding on his face, a corner of her lips quirked in a small smile. "Useful, yes?"

"I see."

He took the time to ponder her statement, but in that same time she downed the rest of her teacup. When she set her cup down, she commented, "This is rudimentary, as information from the Magisterium goes. It's old history—almost apocryphal in some circles—but those with the right ties know the same tales. Most of Jishou's citizens know some form of it, but the entire story is known only to few, because the Magisterium accepts only the best."

The First Princess looked at him. "And now you know some of this story as well. As far as your first question goes—our best magicians have always been our ties, but father personally handles all the official correspondence."

He took a moment before asking his next question.

"You speak with confidence on this subject," Kouen hedged, knowing there was _more_ to it, "are there—"

"—Other channels of information?" She finished for him.

Her green eyes suddenly seemed exceedingly sharp in the lamplight.

It was a telling reaction. He'd immediately sensed the tenseness in her statement, and the sudden change in the mood of the conversation—

—So, cautiously, he conceded to her statement with a silent nod. A few beats of silence followed, then she turned to look outside the pavilion—the shifting from orange to grey light framed her face differently, and in the dull glow of the afternoon skies, her eyes glinted with something akin to weariness with the question he'd posed her.

"Yes, but you underestimate the magisters if you think they would trust someone so easily. I only tell you this, Prince Kouen, because you ask, and because I have permission to speak of some things—but certainly not all."

Kouen paused.

"I meant no offense."

She turned to him again, and the light from the lamp flickered briefly. When it recovered, he found her lips, half-bathed in shadow and half-gilded in orange, pursed in a thin line.

And then she sighed, quietly.

"None taken. Forgive me, I didn't mean to sound so affronted."

He said nothing. They both knew he'd purposely tried to pry, but the First Princess seemed content to bury the subject and the indiscretion on his part—apologizing seemed fruitless, when she looked happy enough to not speak of the matter anymore.

She looked at him briefly, before reaching for her teacup.

Kouen hadn't _truly_ meant any offense, yet still she knew well enough that he had tried to pry into the Triangle's secrets, which she claimed to have no right to speak about. Now here they remained in the oppressive silence.

Around them, the rain continued. But Sayuri just poured herself another cup of her tea, waving a hand for her attendants when she emptied her pot.

They remained quiet for the rest of the hour, listening to nothing but the sounds of the rain slipping against the roof tiles of the pavilion, and the wildlife responding to the downpour. She'd earlier asked him if she could return to her reading, to which he'd responded with a mechanical obliging of _if you please, Princess._

She didn't lounge this time, but she read with the same amount of fixation. Another pair of attendants had brought her a low table for convenience, and she continued her reading by the lamplight, like they'd never had their conversation.

Momentarily, Kouen had idly wondered what a woman like her—an obviously well-educated princess younger than him by just a year, already married for some time and widowed for even longer—would read.

But soon he turned away to observe the falling summer rain, thinking absently about magisters, things to accomplish, and other peculiar princesses he'd met in his lifetime.

* * *

If there was anything to be grateful for in the months her father and mother ordered their family's sojourn to Tohouku, it was that she got to see her siblings more often. Business often kept her, Shiro and Yuki away from each other; she was constantly shuttling around the Triangle, getting off and on boats, and even a few magic carpet rides—Shiro traveled between Jishouan provinces, speaking to local lords on their father's behalf, familiarizing himself with the lands and the people he would one day rule over. Yuki was always gone for extended periods of time, away from the country, studying in the Magisterium and sometimes acting as the Jishouan ambassador to Ariavat.

She saw her parents, Mameha and her younger sisters often when she returned to the capitol after her ventures and before her next task—but this was truly the first time in a long while when their entire family lived in the same place for more than a week or two.

Sayu conceded that while she was twitchy and itching to return to the matters that awaited her in Caera, and even though she still spent a large part of her days doing whatever work she could manage to get done—like Shiro and Yuki did—it was still nice to see her family together.

These were pleasant thoughts to have, especially after her (almost disastrous) unintended tea party with the Crown Prince of Kou.

She entered the royal apartments. All of her siblings were already gathered there, with Yuki demonstrating some of his magical skills to her younger sisters, and Mameha and Shiro talking about something over cups of tea.

Some of her siblings looked up at her entrance, and she smiled as she greeted them. She gave quick kisses to her kid sisters, commenting on how much they'd grown, talking to them a bit before eventually coming to sit by Mameha and Shiro's table.

Her brother smiled, raising a single, devious brow. "Late, I see. Was there anything that kept you?"

Sayu fought to keep the grimace off her face, remembering the conversation she'd had with Ren Kouen not three hours earlier. She'd awkwardly excused herself from his silent company when a messenger with an umbrella arrived at the pavilion to tell her she'd been summoned by her parents—she'd then hurried to her room to change into something suitable, before coming here.

She was determined not to speak of such matters, not when her sisters could overhear. So she just furrowed her brow as she poured herself another cup of tea, commenting, "I had to change. I was reading in the gardens today, and you wouldn't believe who wandered into the _same_ garden."

She knew Mameha would be interested if she spun the meeting she'd had _this_ way, however. And she could talk to Shiro about her strange conversation later—for now she would only tell this part of the story, for Mameha's benefit. Sayu watched as Shiro smirked with knowing. Mameha saw his reaction, but still remained oblivious, and thus eagerly asked, "Who?"

"Why, Prince Kouen, of course," Shiro replied. Her older brother waved a lofty hand, "Who else could it be? You know how divinely twisted fate can be."

At his name, Mameha colored a brilliant, tomato red. Sayu chuckled at this. "I think you have something to say about Prince Kouen."

"Or something to _think_ about—" Shiro happily chimed, "—especially when it comes to dear Koumei's older brother."

They were both surprised when Mameha turned away from their remarks, shame-faced. "It's—it's improper, I know."

She and Shiro looked at each other, brows raised. They turned to their younger sister, concern evident in their brows. Sayu gently said, "We didn't mean it that way, Mameha. I'm surprised you'd say that."

"The noblewomen talk a lot," Shiro continued, "we were just teasing."

The eighteen year old was playing with her thumbs. She haltingly bit out, "I know. But I'm supposed to marry Prince Koumei, aren't I? It would be improper to think of his own brother in such a way."

Nobushiro pulled the girl in his arms. He chuckled, patting her head. "Perhaps it is, but a little fun every once in a while is to be expected. It's what makes us human." He looked at Sayu. She smiled, waving for him to continue.

"Everyone in this family knows that you take your duties very seriously—" Mameha looked up at her older brother when he said that, and Shiro just patted her shoulder with a smile. "—mother and father are very proud. So are Sayu and I. And you know Yuki has always been proudest of how far you've come."

"I'm rather sure," Sayu added with a grin, "that Koumei is warming up to you. Don't think I haven't noticed how you two speak to each other more."

Mameha got out of her brother's hug. She was still a little red, as she laughed sheepishly. "We only talk sometimes, really. I think he likes spending time with you more than me and my chaperone. It's not much of a romance."

Again, Sayu and Shiro looked at each other at that. That Mameha and Koumei were getting to be friends was what Sayu had alluded to. Not romance—

Shiro soothed their sister's concerns with a few more quips, all the while expertly slipping the topic of their arranged marriage _and romance_ out of Mameha's grasp.

Soon their parents arrived, and without further ado they made the procession down from the royal apartments and into the banquet hall. Along the way, she and Shiro stayed at the back of the pack, talking quietly.

Her brother looked pained. "Did you think we were too harsh, not even allowing her to think that she and Koumei might…"

 _Love each other?_

The words didn't need to be said. Sayu felt an unexpected twinge of sadness at her brother's question—once, when she'd been much younger than Mameha and headed into her own arranged marriage, she'd thought the same thing. Her betrothal had come as a shock to her, but she'd accepted it eventually. She'd even dreamt about perhaps being _happy_ in her marriage, like her mother and father were. That she would love her prince—and her prince would love her.

It didn't go quite as planned. Sayuri felt a sigh slip out of her lips. Shiro had never been married—indeed, his prospects were still being considered, but it would be a while yet since their parents would seriously start looking for a bride for him. But he knew the way of things, being as old and experienced as he was.

"I think we were a little harsh, to not even allow her some hope." She started, "But it wouldn't even be half as cruel as encouraging her, only for her to find out later that Koumei won't love her that way."

They didn't know that for sure, but the smart thing to do was not risk it. Suppositions and preconceptions of that sort had hurt her deeply, when she was fourteen.

Shiro stared straight ahead of him, gazing at the silver heads of their family, eyes straying once to the tall heads of their parents, engaged in happy conversation with each other. "I don't think she actually _like likes_ him, to be honest."

But still she tried, because she somehow had the strange idea that everyone expected her to have a perfect marriage with Koumei. It was something to work upon—perhaps Sayu and her mother would need a talk with Mameha.

Sayuri tried not to cringe. Marriage was always such painstaking, meticulous talk. It was a topic that she only marginally liked more than _war_.

As if sensing her tired thoughts, Shiro turned to her with a grin. "But, enough of such things. I'm sure Koumei will treat her just fine—and he already knows that Yuki would magically incinerate him otherwise."

A thought occurred to Sayuri. She remembered their earlier conversation, about Ren Kouen, before they'd ever ventured into the topic of marriage. "Shiro, has father received any letters from the Magisterium lately?"

Her brother stopped to look at her. But then he started walking again, nonchalantly saying, "No. Why?"

Sayu watched his terrible acting with a wary eye. Upon reconsideration, she thought perhaps now wouldn't be the time—not when they were heading to the banquet where merriment was to be expected, and it wouldn't do for the royal family to look troubled beside the serious Kou princes.

"Nothing," She echoed. "Just curious."

She looked away from him, steeling herself for the dinner. She would be sitting feet away from the Crown Prince of Kou, no doubt about it. If fate was an even crueler mistress—she'd be placed right beside him. She hadn't looked at the seating arrangement for tonight's banquet, but she would assuredly leave the table as soon as she was able to.

This time it was Shiro who turned a suspicious eye on her. He remarked, "Sit with us at the table will you, Sayu. Your work can wait a while yet."

The princess shrugged blithely. "For Koumei, maybe I'll stay."

Shiro snorted. "Sometimes I rub off of you too much. Well, suit yourself."

He winked at her mysteriously, "I'm sure you'll regret it."

His remark caught her off guard. She looked at him in shock for a moment, but the sweeping doors to the royal hall were opened, and every one of their courtiers and subjects rose in deference.

* * *

The night was loud and spirited, just how Nobushiro Jie liked it.

Sitting at their table, a more vibrant thread of conversation thrived; Koumei had gotten much more comfortable with his family, and managed to speak to them without any difficulty. It was a considerably different picture than Koumei's first day in Jishou.

His eyes wandered over to where Sayuri sat. She'd stayed, of course; not when he'd triggered her suspicion with the conversation they'd had before the banquet.

Under any other circumstances, his sister was a veteran diplomat, able to reach across any kind of wall that separated her from a person—years of work in negotiation tended to do that to a person, and Sayu was a flexible person, capable of plying anyone into a reasonable, amiable mood when she wanted to. But obviously she had no intention of using those same abilities tonight.

Kouen had been seated to his father's right, who sat at the head of the table. His mother had chosen to seat herself with his youngest sisters a little further down the table, entertaining some high ranking members of court with her ladies in waiting.

Which meant Shiro sat directly across Kou's Crown Prince. And he was also able to observe the chill in the foreign prince's area of the table, because Ren Kouen seemed unable to speak to Sayuri, who was seated beside him.

Shiro snickered into his cup of rice wine. Sayuri was as cordial as ever, happily speaking to Koumei—who was seated right beside Shiro, and thus across her—but there was such a trying dimension to her cordialness whenever Kouen had been included in such a conversation.

It was beginning to become apparent to Koumei, too. The younger prince turned to him, hiding their faces with his fan, "Excuse me, Prince Nobushiro, but did my lord brother do anything to offend Princess Sayuri?"

 _My lord brother_ annoyed Shiro a bit, because his own siblings didn't call him that. Nobody should—especially not when you were _siblings._ It was too formal, too stifling, and rife with all sorts of uncomfortable implications about how the imperial court in Rakushou was.

Shiro chose to comment on something else: "I must've told you a million times now—if you let my siblings so graciously call you Koumei, you're more than welcome to call us by our first names."

Koumei said nothing in reply. They were both too interested in watching as Sayu politely offered to pour Kouen a cup of wine.

The prince uttered a "yes."

That was the full extent of their conversation for the next minute.

Shiro had to smother his chuckles with another swig of wine. "And those two? I'm not entirely sure. Apparently they had a meeting, earlier. I suppose it didn't turn out very well."

That was another thing that was rife with uncomfortable implications, and earlier Sayu herself looked like she'd been about to speak about it, before realizing Mameha would overhear—but if she hadn't told him by now, it was something that could wait.

Just then, the royal hall opened to reveal another small procession. Cheers went up, and as the doors to the hall sealed themselves shut again, Shiro had already put his cup of wine down, a wide grin stretching the expanse of his face.

He stood. His father rose to do the same—but not before bidding the foreign princes to sit. Down the table, he could see his mother smiling at this new procession, hushing his excited kid sisters.

A single shiver of anticipation went up Nobushiro's spine. He glanced at Sayuri, who was staring at him with a quizzical, severely unimpressed brow.

She must've been _really_ unimpressed by Ren Kouen.

Well, she surely wasn't going to be unimpressed by this next spectacle. Shiro had been informally tasked with informing her of the arrival of this delegation—but he'd decided to keep this secret to himself, to savor his sister's unfettered surprise.

The festivities didn't grind to a halt, because the arrival of this latest retinue was treated with great familiarity by the court; the din continued all around them, even as a small party of attendants dressed (far too) warmly stopped before the dais.

This group parted in half, to make way for their single lord: Ariavat's First Prince, fresh from the desert sands that enveloped the Magisterium's lands.

His worn boots clicked as he swept one low and handsome bow, with one hand over his heart. He wore a camel colored long, knee-length coat embroidered with vines and swallows twisting in circles; Shiro had to bite his lip—despite being one of the Magisterium's rising scholars, he could still easily slip on the airs and clothes of a fine prince whenever he wanted to.

"Prince Kouen, Prince Koumei," The King said with a fond smile alighting his face, "This is the Kingdom of Ariavat's First Prince." Tongue in cheek, his father said nothing more.

Shiro stifled another laugh. There was a short chuckle from below them as well, as the newest prince rose from his bow with lithe grace. He said with his hand still over his heart, "My name is Alihaddra Kujahabar Salman," Then he smiled, and it was a benevolent smile—totally free from any kind of malice.

 _That's the kind of thing only_ he _could pull off,_ Shiro thought with a deepening smirk, _that bastard._

This prince continued, simply with: "Ali, for short."

 _Alihaddra_ was the name Shiro's parents used. _Prince Ali_ was the pet name the courtiers had given him. But to the Jie siblings—and most especially Sayuri—he was simply known as _Kuja._

"I've come to the court of the King of Jishou—" And here Kuja uttered a sincere _blessed may his rule be,_ "—first as a magister, in service to the Triangle. I repeat the Magisterium's tidings: we bid Kou and Jishou's enterprise well."

Koumei was silent, looking to his brother. He looked a combination of stunned, awed and tense all at the same time. But Kouen stood with the King's assent—and as he spoke, Nobushiro observed the deep interest he regarded Kuja with. It was a formal thank you that he said, cautious and calculated.

His eyes betrayed the intrigue he held for the Magisterium. It was honestly the same with Koumei—but Kouen was of course a more dangerous man, with his multiple metal vessels and how he would one day rule as emperor of Kou.

Kuja humbly bowed his head over Kouen's greeting. But the magister's eyes then flickered to where Shiro stood, with his smirk in place and arms crossed. Kuja's smile then cracked into a grin.

This time he no less respectfully addressed the King, "I've come second as a prince, not only fond of, but greatly missing his friends. I hope that I've arrived in not too bad a time—I didn't intend to interrupt this banquet."

The King chuckled over this flowery introduction. "Welcome, Alihaddra. Come join in the festivities."

And much as Shiro wanted to give Kuja a slap on the back for finally returning to Jishou, he had Koumei to entertain.

Koumei _and his questions,_ his mind amended. Shiro waved a little hand at Kuja, who just waved back with a grin, mouthing _talk to you later._

He sat down, turning to Koumei with a smile.

The Second Prince of Kou was—unsurprisingly—watching Kuja mill about the royal banquet table with his fan covering most of his face. His eyes followed the magister dip his head before the Queen, who smiled. Then Kuja talked dotingly to Shiro's three younger sisters.

Koumei considered him. He was not hostile or calculating, but just genuinely _curious_ about the magister, which Shiro took to be a good sign. Shiro spoke after popping a Caeran grape in his mouth, "Kuja's been a good friend of our family's for two decades now, I think."

As if snapping out of some trance, Koumei turned to him. He was flustered enough to do that characteristic head-rubbing. He tried to return to his food and drink, but Shiro just chuckled. "Don't worry, I won't tell you've been staring. He's been stared at for far longer, I assure you. And he doesn't mind—I'm sure Kuja'd like you, anyhow."

Koumei looked surprised at that. Shiro's eyes followed Kuja as well, though in a more discreet manner.

They both watched as Kuja then made his way over to the other side of the table. Yuki greeted him begrudgingly.

"Prince Nobuyuki—"

"—Yuki." He added without hesitation.

"…Nobuyuki," Koumei compromised, "doesn't seem very pleased."

Shiro chuckled. _Progress_ , he supposed. "That's because Yuki spends most of his time in the Magisterium. I expect they run into each other a lot—he told me Kuja sometimes helps him in his magical studies. He's a good teacher, but my brother has always wanted to best him. So far it hasn't happened."

"I…see."

Shiro could see he really didn't. He went on with a smile, "They're as old as each other, you know. Kuja's already a magister—magicians usually reach middle age before that happens. You can imagine how hard my brother has to work to keep up with him."

Their eyes trailed the Ariavatan Prince's path. Beside Yuki sat Mameha, who smiled brilliantly at Kuja. She laughed as he bowed over her outstretched hand. When he straightened, he fondly patted her slender hand in his own hands, saying something they couldn't hear with a smile.

Shiro closely observed Koumei's reaction. He seemed…curious. The redhead then took a gulp of his already cold tea.

Kuja next took a few steps up the table, nearing where the King sat.

Where _Sayu_ sat.

Shiro looked at her face which sported, quite possibly, the best smile he'd ever seen from her. Briefly her eyes locked with his, and Shiro mouthed, _surprise!_

She laughed. Not chuckled— _laughed,_ and she stood to greet her friend, meeting him halfway. She extended her hand, her eyes dancing with mirth.

Kuja indulged this gesture. It was very regal, very princely—the tail end of his coat touched the ground when he bowed deeply over Sayu's hand, in Ariavatan custom.

In custom with the years of friendship he shared with Sayu, however, he soon straightened and embraced her tightly. In front of the court. Not that anyone truly noticed—they were all used to it.

Perhaps it was different in Kou, Shiro mused. Koumei looked slightly scandalized.

"No worries, Koumei," He said, putting down a set of flaky, honey-soaked treats from Ariavat in front of the younger prince. "they've always been the closest of friends. Were it not for Ariavat's tradition of wedding all its magicians to other magicians to keep its bloodline strong, Kuja would've married my sister long ago. Before father married her off to Caera, even."

The younger prince looked at him.

"And…now?"

Shiro could tell it was a subtle point of interest for Koumei. They were talking about his sister, now; not that he blamed him for his interest—many people wondered what had went wrong five years ago, to precipitate Sayu's return to Jishou.

From the right person, Sayu would've easily answered the question. It was a tale that needed to be told, every once in a while. It'd carried a lot of meaning.

 _It still does,_ he corrected. _It probably always will._

But back to actually answering Koumei's question: "Magisters don't marry," was all he decided to say for now. Shiro shrugged, "too much work involved."

When he reached across the table to grab a jug of water, Shiro noted Kouen's crimson eyes following Sayu—she was standing, excusing herself from the table. But soon they returned to his tea.

Nobushiro thought nothing upon the matter. He waved another hand at Kuja, who was stealing Sayu away from the table with a merry grin.

* * *

Notes:

Longest chapter to date. I _love_ Kuja, sorry guys you're stuck with him for the rest of this story. Don't worry he's not just there to make it a love triangle.

(1) It really only occurred to me after I finished making his character that Kuja's name is _Prince Ali,_ technically. So I sneaked the reference in there. Does anyone know from where that's familiaaar?

(2) We'll get to the _adventure_ and _romance_ part soon. Sometime. I promise.

(3) Plug: I've written a oneshot about Kouen; if you might be interested, go check it out on my profile. It's what I think he feels, so some sliver of that will end up in this fic somehow. I've also made a blog, due to some demand; it'll contain supplementary material for this fic, because it's so heavily-AU and full of OCs.

Thanks so much folks; the response has always been greatly uplifting. I genuinely appreciate any and all commentary, so if you have the time _please_ write me a review. I'll field any questions, any clarifications, any concerns! See y'all next time. :-)


	6. The Setting Sun

**6**

 _The Setting Sun_

Morning had come and Kuja had woken her just minutes after sunrise.

"Get up, get up, get _up,_ Sayuri!" His voice teased, and he lifted her covers and tossed them— _somewhere._ She didn't know. She was trying to sleep.

The rude awakening was hardly welcome—she groaned, reminded of the many times he'd woken her in the exact same manner. Their families had always been close, due to the bond her father shared with Kuja's father: as children, she and her siblings spent their winters in Ariavat, whereas Kuja and his sister spent their summers in Jishou.

And the summer palace in Tohouku had always been one of their favorite haunts; perhaps that was why Kuja seemed so determined to disrupt her usually languid morning routine. After all, it _had_ been a while since he'd last been there.

Sayu shivered, curling up and hugging her legs; the cool mountain air was not kind to such unprotected things. She muttered, "Be glad I'm wearing _two_ robes, Kuja."

She groggily opened one eye, squinting at the blurry vision of the Ariavatan prince setting down a tray on her bedside table.

"You've been neglecting your morning routine, I see—" He remarked, and she could practically hear him furrowing his brows, "—when you returned from Caera all those years ago, you were waking up even before I did. And that was saying something."

Sayu turned away from him, twisting her eyes shut. She yawned, trying—failing, really—to smother her mouth with a single hand.

 _When I returned from Caera,_ she inwardly groused, _someone had just died._

Which made it very hard to sleep—more so when that dead _someone_ was a person you happened to care about deeply.

"It's a very interesting situation, the one happening here," A new weight settled beside her on the bed. This new weight thoughtfully said, "you seem very attached to your court's guests."

That woke her.

She slowly sat up, finding Kuja sitting beside her. He'd donned some Jishouan robes today—normally the sight of him so easily wearing her country's clothes would draw a smile from her, but today she just quizzically quirked a brow at him.

Two steaming cups of tea were sitting on the tray; she reached for her cup, silently welcoming the warmth it brought to her cold fingers.

Kuja said nothing. He was smiling at her, using his usual genial smile; the sight of him, sitting a foot away from her, would've been wonderful—he was comfortably clothed in a simple turquoise blue robe, painted with slender bamboo shoots. It was a nice contrast to his smooth umber skin, and his warm amber eyes were sparkling with mirth, even in the grey morning.

But Sayu remained unmoved, mind still curiously picking apart what he'd meant by that statement. She took one draught of her tea, savoring the mildly bitter brew on her tongue. She looked at her friend, "You're only half-right, mind you, I'm only fond of the younger of our two guests."

Kuja flippantly shrugged in response.

Slowly, Sayu continued, "But you ask me this…for what reason?"

His amber eyes had then turned musing—but he kept his smile, and it was a look she'd seen on him often; it was that half-distant, half-playful look that he used whenever he was thinking of something deep.

"It's the Kou _Empire,_ Sayuri _._ " He tilted his head at her, raising his own brow in reply.

How cryptic. It made her huff.

"I haven't forgotten, if that's what you mean to say," She said, darkly. "Mameha will be marrying into the Ren family. An alliance is still better than vassalage in this day and age...I suppose."

Kuja nodded sagely. It made the lush black curls crowning his head bob for a bit. "A steep price, for peace in the Triangle."

She nearly choked on her tea. But she just nodded, swallowing the liquid with a chagrined expression. "If we could have it any other way, you know we would have it so."

"I wonder about that," Kuja idly said. She watched as he distractedly reached for his own tea. His voice pondered: "…she'll be requiring a lot of help, your sister. Someone to stand by her, when she is removed from everything she knows."

Sayu pursed her lips, gripping the cup in her hands.

"I know she will."

* * *

They returned that mid-morning to the training grounds, where Koumei and Mameha's small retinue were sitting at a shaded pavilion. The day was still cool, however, and Kuja pointed out the crowd gathered by the wide field as they passed by on their way back to the main keep.

"Ah, look!" He said with a grin, "that's Mameha's soon-to-be-husband, isn't it? The one with the red hair?"

Sayu paused. "Hm, indeed it is," She looked at the rest of the grounds, and upon seeing the numerous archery targets and Mameha speaking to the arms master in her training clothes, she mirrored his grin.

They drew close to the pavilion; Mameha's retinue was silently talking amongst themselves, and Koumei—dressed in his Kou robes—was sitting on a separate rug with a tea setting for two already laid out. Sayuri recognized the delicate porcelain as belonging to her younger sister's personal set.

Koumei was observing Mameha from afar, but he looked to the side as they came to stand at the base of the pavilion's steps. Sayuri took off the large straw hat she'd been wearing—after their morning tea, she and Kuja had gone for a hike in the mountains like they'd done as children, and she'd worn the hat for protection.

"P-Princess Sayuri," The Kou prince said, haltingly, and he (with slight hesitance, she also noticed) turned to the Ariavatan prince beside her. "…Prince Alihaddra."

Sayuri smiled, raising a brow. "I thought it was Sayu, now."

Koumei rubbed the back of his head. "Ah—yes…I've been reminded by your brothers, too."

Kuja amusedly glanced at her, but he returned his warm gaze to the younger prince. He chuckled, "Call me Kuja, if you will, Prince Koumei. Any friend of Sayu's is a friend of mine."

Koumei then fanned himself, hiding the lower half of his face. He looked away. "...You are kind, Prince Alihaddra. Yet surely I cannot be so familiar with you." He looked down for a moment, then as if remembering something, he gazed at her again. "But please, sit, there's space."

The redhead's refusal was not something unexpected—Sayu had come to know Koumei as a stickler for formality, after all: his reluctance to call her siblings by their given names was just further evidence of that. So she smiled at Kuja, and motioned for him to sit.

Sayu sat beside her old friend, and one of Mameha's attendants approached her; the princess greeted her with a smile, thanking her for the tea that the other attendants then served.

Kuja reached for the teapot. "Oh, allow me to pour. Prince Koumei, would you like a cup?"

"…Yes, thank you."

"I don't believe you've been formally introduced to each other yet, have you?" Sayu mused out loud, silently thanking Kuja for her cup with a nod. "Koumei, this is Kuja. Kuja, this is Ren Koumei, the Second Imperial Prince of Kou." She looked at Koumei briefly, quirking a corner of her lips, before looking again at Kuja. "He's become a good friend of mine."

She could feel the shift in weight as the Ariavatan prince sat back beside her, gripping his own cup. He smiled sincerely as he held his cup down by his side, "It is an honor to meet you, Prince Koumei. The Magisterium and my country have heard many great things about the Kou Empire growing in the west, not least of all its alliance to Jishou."

Sayu eyed Koumei's reaction. He seemed a bit taken off guard by Kuja's affable manner, but she inwardly chuckled and said nothing. She took a sip of her tea, turning her gaze to the training field.

There was a breeze going, that morning; distantly, she could hear the two princes' quiet conversation, with Kuja explaining that they'd gone for a hike in the morning, and were to eat breakfast when they eventually returned to the castle.

Sayu gazed at her sister in the distance; Mameha was wearing a long pair of pleated pants, and a short fold-over robe tucked into the pants, bearing smaller sleeves. Her hair was tied back in a practical, no-nonsense ponytail. The arms master handed her a sleek longbow—when she held it up and pulled the string back to test it, Sayuri thought the girl had never looked more adept for the large task looming ahead of her.

Mameha looked tall and supple like that, with her back straight and her pale arms firmly gripping the longbow.

 _She'll do fine with the right guidance, as Kuja says,_ Sayuri reminded herself, _she'll do fine._

Beside her, Kuja placed a hand on her arm, as if sensing her thoughts. He turned his smile on her, but then glanced at Mameha: "It looks as if Mameha has been practicing, at the very least."

 _Unlike you,_ were the words spoken by the glimmer in his eyes. Sayuri grinned impishly at him. She regarded Koumei, "Mameha—she's a capable archer. She's been on hunts, although a little up north is where all the game is, during the winter."

 _A pity we don't have them as often anymore,_ she silently added. Her younger sister needed more things to do other than stay in the palace, penned in with her chaperone and her retinue.

"I would never have guessed," Koumei replied, looking at the field as well. The weapons master was handing Mameha a quiver of arrows, and she accepted it with a nod before hanging the article by her waist. She gazed once at where they were sitting, and both Sayu and Kuja waved a hand.

Her little sister waved back, momentarily setting her longbow at the ground. She waved a little more reservedly when her gaze eventually turned to the redhead.

"There's a meeting this morning, isn't there?" Sayu curiously asked Koumei. That was what Shiro had told her anyway, and what the ministers had told her as well.

Across from her, the Kou prince laughed sheepishly. He mildly said while fanning himself: "My lord brother bid me rest this morning…Princess Mameha invited me before the meeting was scheduled, and I had to refuse then. Fortunately Kouen's order allows me to now accept her invitation."

It seemed a bit chivalrous, but when it came to Koumei it was perhaps nothing but pure politeness—after all he had always taken great pains to be an exceedingly courteous guest of theirs, graciously taking astride whatever frivolous request or scheme Nobushiro would manage to rope him into.

She would rather not assume his growing fondness for Mameha.

Kuja's grin broadened at Koumei's remark, but he stayed silent. She herself just nodded, before turning to watch Mameha practice shooting targets. Sayu could tell: Kuja was slightly pleased at Koumei's sentiments, which were at least an honest declaration of not wanting to disappoint her sister.

They stayed quiet as they watched Mameha knock another arrow into place and she pulled her arm back; the longbow was thin but masterfully crafted, and it _snapped_ as it unbent a second later, and the arrow was flying.

Minutes passed as arrow after arrow whistled through the wind and hit their targets; it was relatively silent in their pavilion, even with Mameha's entourage excitedly murmuring to themselves at her sister's performance.

After a while and when her quiver was spent, her younger sister turned back to look in their direction, beaming in a half-nervous, half-proud fashion.

"Koumei!" Mameha called over with a wave, setting her longbow down on the ground with her other hand.

The redhead in question hurriedly put down the cup of tea he'd been about to drink, shedding his purple outer robe and handing it to one of his attendants. He stood as he looked at her and Kuja with his customary sheepish smile. "Excuse me, I promised to shoot a few targets as well today."

Sayu exchanged a glance with her best friend, grinning. "Please, don't keep my sister waiting. I think we were just leaving anyway…?" Kuja's brows knitted for a moment, and a beat of silence passed before it was replaced with a grumble from his stomach.

The magister chuckled: "Forgive my stomach's rudeness, but it seems to be agreeing, at the very least. Sayu and I still have to make the trip back to the keep for breakfast." He stood up from the rug and offered a hand to help her, which she took with a nod and a laugh. The two said their goodbyes to Mameha's entourage, before they made it out of the pavilion with Koumei.

They parted ways as Koumei walked off to join her sister, and the pair was left to observe them from afar. Kuja held her straw hat for her, and although they were beginning their trek uphill to the main keep, they both couldn't make their eyes stray from the archery field.

They watched as Mameha and Koumei's figures receded further into the distance.

"An odd couple," Her dark-haired friend commented absently.

Sayu's lips quirked at that. "As I recall, people were saying the same thing when it was _my_ betrothal about to be announced." She lifted an amused brow at Kuja. "Perhaps you're just running out of cryptic things to say."

The Ariavatan Prince barked a laugh. "I'm a magister, Sayu, and knowledgeable as you are with us, you ought to know more than anyone else that I will _never_ run out of cryptic things to say."

She pretended to think about his rejoinder. "Hm. True enough I suppose, but that doesn't mean you get away with it."

This time he looked at her with his own raised brow. "I try to be less obtuse with you, you know. And you've got the brains for the riddles, at least."

She shrugged playfully at that, dimly acknowledging the tacit compliment in his words.

* * *

The sudden arrival of Ariavat's Crown Prince came as no great surprise to Kouen; he had anticipated the remote possibility of some courtier or another arriving from Jishou's closest ally in the Triangle, but he hadn't truly expected the Ariavatan court—unfamiliar as he was with it—to send someone so…crucial.

Which spoke volumes about the political landscape of Triangle. Though Kou's diplomatic commission (and that included, more recently, Koumei) put together as much information as they could about the Triangle, both Caera and Ariavat were still alien to him, and he relied on secondhand information more than he liked to.

Hence why there was a purpose to everything, and why he was sitting on one of the Jishouan summer palace's highest and most luxurious balconies, a low table already set in front of him.

Across from him, Alihaddra Kujahabar Salman smiled. He drew something out of his robes—Jishouan robes that he wore with ease, Kouen noticed—a small metal canister, which he then placed on the table, along with the rest of the tools he'd already set for Kouen.

"It's a pleasure to have finally met with you," The magister said, with a twinkle in his eye. His many ringed fingers, glinting gold in the sunlight, reached up to tap his chin. "Prince Kouen."

"Likewise." Kouen replied.

"King Mameyoshi was gracious enough to lend me this room for our meeting today, so rest assured that he is fully aware of the pact I'm about to propose," He continued, sitting back and folding his arms. "In fact, this visit was planned entirely beforehand with His Majesty's help, to coincide with your fortuitous visit to the Triangle."

 _Fortuitous?_

Yet he said nothing, sensing that Ali wasn't finished.

"However, for the peace of mind of many officials and magisters that depend on this meeting, I am bringing along one formal witness, who can relay all that is about to occur in exceeding detail. The Magisterium is bound in service to the Triangle, and as such everything discussed here will be passed on to not only the Kingdoms of Jishou and Ariavat, but the Caeran Republic as well."

His eyes darted to the side, where the entrance to the room was. At that moment, the attendants slid open the doors, to reveal none other than his brother Koumei, comfortably conversing with Sayuri Jie.

Her face was curtained by her long silver hair as she spoke to his brother. When she turned her head, she pushed her hair back behind an ear and a mild smile appeared on her lips. As the two of them arrived at the balcony, the princess dipped her head at him.

"Prince Kouen," She glanced at the man sitting across the table. "Kuja."

Wordlessly, Alihaddra gestured to his right hand side, where Sayuri duly sat herself. Koumei came to sit by Kouen's right as well, and as everyone settled the magister's grin trained itself on him once more.

"This is more discreet," Alihaddra continued, pouring a cup of tea for the princess, "and expedient, for both the Triangle and the Magisterium. Sayu is a trusted diplomat, working in Jishou's chancellery." He looked at Kouen sincerely, "I hope this will raise no objections."

"It will not."

And so the meeting went: Alihaddra Salman had unexpectedly paid a visit to his suite of rooms early that afternoon, with a formal request for him and his brother's company in tow. Kouen had been in the middle of looking through reports and archival scrolls Koumei had managed to compile for him; two hours later, here they were.

He and Koumei had surmised the meeting had something to do with Ariavatan affairs, especially since the Crown Prince of Ariavat had arrived in Jishou with a royal retinue, not a magisterial one; yet the moment Ali had mentioned _the Magisterium_ and the doors had slid open to reveal Sayuri, Kouen knew that what they were about to discuss would be something else entirely.

Fleetingly, his eyes glanced at where the First Princess of Jishou sat; she was taking a draught of her tea. Her mere presence right then betrayed just how entangled she was with the Triangle's politics—or just how valued she was by the court, or how valued she was by a certain magister.

 _A combination of those three perhaps,_ he reflected. The implication was not unthinkable; it certainly wasn't useless either.

Interesting, if nothing else.

"You've said before, Prince Ali," and here his name rolled off of Kouen's tongue so easily, and the Crown Prince of Kou didn't bother keeping the slight intrigue out of his tone, "that you've come to Jishou first as a magister, second as a prince. Am I to think that the Magisterium will be the subject of this meeting?"

"Right you are, Prince Kouen." It was Sayuri who replied, this time; there was a sharpness in her green eyes that regarded him steadily. The corners of her mouth were lifted in a wisp of a smile.

"The magisters have conferred upon this matter already, and the Triangle has given their whole-hearted support," Alihaddra completed for her. His ringed fingers left his chin for a moment as he inconspicuously flicked his wrist.

A metal cylinder, which had previously sat on Ali's side of the table, seamlessly slid over to where Kouen and Koumei sat. Koumei reached for the cylinder—it was large and fashioned with metal snakes coiling themselves up and down its length—its cap came off, and he proceeded to pull out and read the scroll contained within.

Kouen impassively watched as the magical glimmer dancing across Ali's fingers died down, and his brother's eyes widened while silently reading through the scroll's contents.

"It's an agreement," Alihaddra said, "we formally invite the Kou Empire's top magicians to come and train in the Magisterium."

When silence met his remark, Sayu added: "Jishou is now allying itself to Kou—which shows how much trust the Empire has earned. It sits well with the magisters, frankly."

This was no hastily thought out move—no, this proposal had come through enough deliberation, and had probably already made its rounds in the Triangle. What was more off-putting was the Triangle's "whole-hearted support" for the proposal, and the ease with which both foreign officials were treating the issue.

"The agreement isn't a corollary of Kou and Jishou's alliance," Koumei commented. He looked up from the scroll, "is it?"

"No." Alihaddra grinned. "But the alliance helps a great deal. The Magisterium isn't usually proactive with recruitment, you see. The alliance was enough to influence their decision upon this matter, however."

Up until this moment Kouen had kept himself silent, turning over the proposal in his head and examining it from all angles. "Why the interest in Kou's magicians?" Perhaps there was a hint of suspicion and challenge in his words as he next spoke, eyes narrowed—"I would've thought that the academy was open only to the magicians born in the Triangle."

"Technically," Sayuri looked at him, "The Magisterium is open to everyone. It's just few people outside the Triangle make the journey to Ariavat, and even fewer make it through the desert and reach the academy."

"We're simply formally inviting your best, Prince Kouen." The magister's grin tempered itself into a smile that Kouen took to be _gentle,_ "Although it may not be for all magicians, my organization has always been very eager to teach anyone the way of the rukh, so long as they are willing."

Koumei's brows knitted at this. His younger brother traded looks with him before gazing at the magister once more with a brow lifted, "Forgive us our skepticism, but entrusting our top magicians to a country whose only form of relation with Kou is through Jishou—it is out of the question."

...

...

"Don't send them all at once, then."

Kouen's eyes returned to Sayuri's position, at Ali's side.

"Kou reserves the right to officially send their magicians whenever they want," She ploughed on, "and however they want. They could send three thousand magicians at once or over the span of ten years—"

"—the Magisterium simply wants to make ourselves known to magicians residing in the West." Ali finished. "We want them to know it's an option for them to receive training now, if they feel it. The Kingdom of Ariavat is well-versed with the consequences of regularly accepting such foreigners in their borders; they've already given their blessing, anyhow, and there are separate ports secured by the Magisterium that directly lead to the academy in the desert."

"This access," Kouen drawled, "is not restricted to only magicians, then? Since you expect Kou to send delegates, I'm sure the Emperor would like the safety of his most gifted citizens ensured."

The magister humbly bowed his head, like he'd done during his introduction at last night's banquet. "Of course."

Koumei nodded quickly at him and the princess. "Then it seems there is little else to discuss," His younger brother closed, "the terms are acceptable."

Across the table, Kouen spied Sayuri smiling tiredly at Ali.

* * *

Notes:

Because there are far more important things in life than writing fanfiction. But _oh,_ my dear perceptive readers, how I've missed all of you, I'm sorry I have to repay my absence with this boring chapter. I love politicking, I really do. Sorry.

(1) I've read some recent reviews; and _agh_ do I love them, since they seem to be giving the characters I've written some measure of thought. The dead husband is attracting attention. And there's not a lot of love for Mameha, which amuses me, since yeah admittedly I didn't really bother writing too much about her (yet.) Give me one last chance! This arc's about to get spicier.

(2) Vague not-too-important hints everywhere this chap; also since this is a semi-AU featuring a cast of OCs, I hope everyone isn't put off by me trying to properly set things up. Maybe you've intuited it by now, but the Magisterium's important in this fic. To Kouen, at least. Which is why I'm expanding on their lore here lmao...

I'll be responding to all your kind reviews in some hours! Thanks, everyone, that followed and favorite-d this fic. I am _truly_ sorry about this chapter, but I just couldn't get it to work any better, since the next chapter is supposed to be more interesting than this one. I hope you stick around for _that_ chapter - many more intriguing things going on, dancing and drinking, more Sayu/Kouen, as well as the betrothal announcement (finally.)

 _Thanks again y'all!_


	7. Midnight

**7**

 _Midnight_

The next few days passed by in a flurry, with the Kou princes' visit swiftly drawing to a close. Sayu saw less and less of the two Ren, though she reflected that even with the loss of Koumei's company she had at least gained Kuja's.

A suitable trade, in any case.

Currently the official announcement of the betrothal would be on the next day: as Jishouan custom dictated, a go-between regarded well by both parties would relay the groom-to-be's honorable offer. Ren Kouen would formally ask for Mameha's hand in marriage, on behalf of his brother Ren Koumei.

Sayu had never really thought of Kouen as a go-between—a matchmaker, as the courtiers liked to say—yet in hindsight he made the perfect negotiator for the marriage contract. The marriage would cement the alliance of Kou and Jishou, and being the Crown Prince, he understood the interests of the Empire the best.

All this silently flit through her mind. She lifted her cup to take another sip of her tea—the honey in it tasted particularly sweet today. Perhaps because her stay in Tohouku would be ending as well, and she would be free to actively resume her duties to the Triangle.

Presently she sat with Shiro, gossiping over the state of affairs the Kou-Jishou alliance was leaving the Triangle in. They ate a bit as Yuki and Kuja continued their practice match in the training field before them.

"Shiro, has Korechika been spotted in Tohouku yet?"

She was referring to Jishou's ambassador to Kou—he'd been conspicuously absent from the negotiations occurring at the summer palace, called away to the capital on clan business. Thankfully his ambassadorial staff came prepared anyway, and the negotiations went unhindered.

"That's _Kyouya_ to you, Sayuri," Nobushiro chided, half-riveted by the magical duel going on. He glanced at her briefly, smirking: "the least you can do for our good friend is call him by his first name. And as far as I know, his clan is still preoccupied with him. Clan business is complex as always."

Their shop talk continued for a little while longer, as they watched the duel unfold before them.

"Come now, Yuki!" Sayu watched as Kuja brought out his scepter in front of him, summoning a sharp gust of wind to part the furious torrent of water Yuki had cast in his direction. As soon as the magister skillfully dissipated the wave, the ground beneath his feet shook: Kuja sprang into the air with a jump boosted by magic, as several earthen pillars then shot up where he'd been standing only seconds ago—sharp pillars that had no doubt been intended to trap him there, and end the duel.

But Yuki met Kuja in the air with his sword drawn, and the Ariavatan prince grinned as he easily brought up his scepter to block the steel trying to make its way to his throat. That was the fascinating thing about magical duels, Sayu was reminded, because magicians held their magoi at their beckoning, and they were capable of doing things non-magicians could only dream of doing. She looked on as Kuja adjusted his grip, and used his two hands to shove Yuki away from him with another gust of wind.

The end was result was two magicians, standing some ways from another in mid-air, and staring each other down. Yuki looked frustrated, but Kuja chuckled good-naturedly at this as he expertly twirled his scepter.

The dark-haired prince repeated with a smile: "Come now, Yuki. Show me what the Magisterium has taught you so far."

"Taunting is unbecoming for a magister, Kuja!" Yuki curtly replied.

Beside her, Shiro rolled his eyes at this exchange. "He ought to stop being so hard on himself."

"Asking our brother for that is like asking for the sun to stop shining," She commented. It was true; such were the effects of her second oldest brother starting his magical studies at around the same time Kuja did. Kuja, of course, had started a year earlier than Yuki—but that was understandable, considering a magician of Kuja's caliber only arrived once every couple hundred years or so. Even by the Magisterium's standards, her best friend was a genius: being in close proximity to such immense talent tended to bring out Yuki's sometimes obsessive drive to win.

Kuja barked another laugh at Yuki's retort, but shrugged. He twirled his scepter one last time, before calling out: "My turn!"

What happened next was perfectly choreographed chaos—Kuja lifted his scepter in the air and with a deadly crackle brought forth a blue bolt of lightning from the sky; when Yuki dodged the first bolt easily, he summoned another and another until Yuki was barely evading the attacks with a magically augmented twirl in the air.

As Yuki sprung away to dodge another bolt, Kuja drew close to him within a second and made a wave of his scepter whose path trailed a wide swath of red-hot flames. Yuki narrowly avoided the blast wave by swinging his sword, summoning a thick rope of water to counter the fire.

Her older brother tried distancing himself from the magister by springing away again, but in a moment Kuja drew his arm back and swiped the air, creating a sharp-edged gale that caught and descended on Yuki with the cutting strength of compressed air.

Sayu drew a breath as the wind magic slammed Yuki back to the earth and stirred a great deal of dust. Something metal clattered noisily.

The dust cleared: she could see Nobuyuki's sword several feet away from where he'd actually landed, and her brother was panting with his hands on his knees. But he soon straightened, resolutely staring up at his adversary.

Evidently the attacks had done nothing to penetrate Yuki's borg at the very least, which now shone visibly around him like a dome of dim gold.

Shiro shook his head with a smile. "Stubborn as always, Yuki."

Kuja looked down at Yuki with a nod of approval. With one hand, he gestured at his scepter. "Let's test the strength of your borg now, shall we?"

Then, as if he'd never broken his concentration, Kuja relentlessly cast his spells again—he drew a circle in the air, and first conjured several large bullets of air. The magister sent them after Yuki one by one, and tired as he was from dodging this way and that, he had no time to make a run for and pick up his sword.

But the bullets glanced off, or otherwise fell apart in a harmless puff of air when they met Yuki's borg. Seamlessly, Kuja switched tactics; he summoned molten hot balls of fire, which zeroed in on Yuki—he followed this by hewing large crystal-clear shards of ice, which he drew around him fast in a circle. The magister gracefully lowered himself onto the ground, eyes following his dueling partner's movements.

Yuki was still evading the fireballs chasing him, however; his borg absorbed the flames that he couldn't avoid, but even Sayu could tell it was slowly being worn away. He ran towards his sword and picked it up, just in time to parry a shard of ice Kuja had launched at him. With some magic, Yuki shattered the icicle into pieces, yet he could not dodge or shatter all the other icicles that the Ariavatan prince barraged him with.

The match was decided not a few moments later when Kuja managed to disarm a magoi-depleted Yuki using his scepter.

"Bravo," Shiro said, clapping.

Sayu clapped as well. She'd forgotten how entertaining it was to watch a mages' match—let alone a match with two skilled magicians in it, one of them being Kuja. He wasn't the youngest magister in the history of the Triangle for nothing.

The magister lowered his scepter and reached out to grasp Yuki's arm with a grin. Yuki glowered, but otherwise accepted his defeat. The two returned to the pavilion with deep breaths.

Kuja was eagerly shedding one of his sleeves, rotating his naked arm as if he'd strained a muscle. Sayu raised an amused brow at him. " _You_ look like you haven't had such a duel in a while."

His brow twitched at her remark, but Kuja said nothing, reaching for the bucket with water instead and ladling himself some of the cool drink. When he was finished gulping it down, he grinned wryly. "Oh, you don't even know how right you are. I've been stuck with teaching the younger trainees in the Magisterium for quite the while now."

"That's such a humble brag, Kuja, pipe it down," Shiro stage mocked.

Yuki snickered into his cup. Sayuri had to bite her lip from laughing. Kuja shot a pointed look at her eldest brother, then ladled himself another drink from the bucket.

The two magicians soon settled down from their workout and they gathered in a loose circle—attendants brought them their lunches, and they ate and talked as if they were all children again, spending their summer together in Tohouku.

Kuja sat beside her, and his scepter lay on the rug beside him; it was a beautiful thing, made in the Ariavatan style with dark wood and tipped with a sizeable but thin metal masterwork wrought in circles and vines twisting around each other. What had always caught her eye each time she saw it was how well-cared for it was; that, and the metal charm Kuja had attached to the other end of the scepter.

It was a pale pink cherry blossom, also wrought in metal. It hung onto the scepter by a thin red rope, which was then looped through a ring at the end of the scepter. The cherry blossom meant a lot—particularly to Jishouan culture, though she knew cherry blossoms also symbolically meant something to the Magisterium.

Kuja noticed her examination of the staff with a grin. He looked at Yuki, "You have to get rid of your wand, Yuki, it doesn't serve you very well. It only undermines your balance. Besides: you fight better with a sword."

He was referring to their first practice match, earlier in the morning—Yuki had lost that match even worse than the one she'd just witnessed. It was true: as far as Sayu knew anyway, all spellblades like Yuki and Kuja carried two vessels to channel their magoi with them, a normal vessel (like a wand, or a scepter) and a bladed vessel (like a sword—hence Yuki's title as spellsword.) The wand was a universally used vessel, though she privately thought a staff-like vessel like Kuja's was more suitable, especially since he just demonstrated it could also be properly used in hand-to-hand combat.

Shiro nodded at this. "True. Get yourself a scepter!" He winked at Sayuri—"That way you'll be able to do all the twirling that Kuja does and Sayu likes."

Yuki's comeback was: "What, and look like some old geezer hobbling on a cane? I'll think about my options, thank you."

"But you're already halfway there, brother," Sayuri added. "Silver hair and a cane would only complete the impression. I sincerely think you should do it."

They all chuckled over the sound of Nobuyuki's grumble.

* * *

Her afternoon later was interrupted by one most curious request—Fuu whispered that she'd spotted a Kou attendant she recognized as part of Kouen's retinue making their way to Sayu's rooms, and she was so surprised she instantly put down the book she'd been reading and waited patiently to admit the attendant into her study.

The man got down on his knees, then bowed low and respectful with his hands held in front of him, in the deeply courteous way of Kou.

"Your Highness, Prince Kouen graciously requests your presence in the west gardens a half hour from now to join him for tea."

That was an even bigger surprise, so much so that she and Fuu exchanged looks of silent astonishment.

"Tell him I'll be more than happy to go," Sayuri instantly replied, feeling cautious. She arranged her things before standing from her low table, mind pondering why the Crown Prince of Kou decided to call on her. And at such an hour and manner, as well—there should be nothing for them to talk about, not when the negotiations were virtually finished, and Kou had already joined the Magisterium's fold. She usually only saw Kouen by virtue of him sometimes keeping Koumei's company; to have him invite her with _his_ own attendant suggested that he wanted to speak to her privately.

"Would you like some tea before you make your way back?" She asked the attendant after he finished his piece. "A small treat? Fuu, please give this man whatever he may need from us."

"Yes, Princess."

"Thank you, Fuu."

Sayu disappeared into her suite, intent on preparing for the meeting.

* * *

She had heard stories about how outdoor meetings were prepared in Kou, but these stories were mostly from Koumei, and he often included how he never forgot to bring rice crackers for the pigeons in Rakushou.

She was still mostly surprised by the invitation extended to her by Kouen—and faintly amused, because he'd set the meeting at the west gardens, her favored gardens in the summer palace. If it was a way for him to influence her decision to meet with him, she didn't know; not that she needed the persuasion, when she was already so curious.

He was on the wooden bridge over the pond, gazing down into the water with an unreadable expression. Sayuri bid her two guards to take their posts, and Fuu automatically distanced herself with a nervous smile.

She approached Kouen with a light step. "Prince Kouen, good afternoon."

As if on cue, a slight breeze passed through the picturesque garden, and the long branches of the willow trees lost a few of their leaves to the wind.

The Kou Prince looked up, meeting her gaze head-on. It had been disorienting at first, since most of the courtiers she knew preferred to sidle their way into meeting her eyes. Even then, they could not keep their eyes on hers for long, but Kouen was unwavering on this front.

It made her feel more self conscious around him. Being around Ren Kouen always set her on her toes, because he spoke so deliberately, and reacted so little; she never really knew if her conversations with him felt pleasant on his part. So she emulated him in trying to be more deliberate with her words than usual.

"Princess Sayuri," He greeted. He gestured for her to follow him to the pavilion on the other side. She walked beside him, silently wondering where this meeting would take them.

"It is unfortunate," Sayu started, gazing at all the trees in and surrounding the garden. "that your stay in Jishou will be ending soon. Besides spring, autumn is the most beautiful season to be here, and we annually attract a great amount of visitors in the capital when all the leaves turn red."

She was again briefly reminded of her childhood—the parties her father would throw at the start of spring and autumn, and how Kuja and his sister never failed to come.

"Perhaps if time is kind, you could return to Jishou in autumn, this year or next."

The invitation was sincere: though she could not make it to autumn that year, with all the work that had piled up over the summer, she would try her best to make it the next year. And although she was not thinking of Kouen specifically, she did value Koumei's company and fostering the new friendship between their countries.

"A coincidence that you should mention plans for autumn." Kouen looked at her with his piercing crimson eyes. They were narrow eyes, shrewd beyond his years. A rug and tea setting was laid out at the pavilion, and he let her sit first before sitting himself.

The rug was woven differently—and it bore the motifs of Kou. Magnificent maroon dragons crawled and guarded the corners of the rug, and in the center sat a great green cloud made in such exquisite detail she wanted to run her hands over the carpet.

The tea set was just as impressive, though Sayu was sure she preferred her own personal set. Kouen poured a cup for her, which made a corner of her mouth twitch upwards, but she hid it by taking a sip of the tea.

"Please answer my question, Princess," He continued, not bothering to pour himself a cup and setting the teapot down.

She stared at him seriously. "…As you wish."

"What do you plan to do after the negotiations here are finished?"

He said it with such a straight face Sayu thought she'd misheard the question— _Ren Kouen and his strange questions,_ she thought.

But she was resolved to help Kou, if only for the sake of Jishou's alliance. And Kouen might as well have been synonymous with the Kou Empire, for all she knew him. "Kuja and I will be making the trip to Ariavat—to formally deliver the message regarding the Magisterium and the Empire's agreement."

"Afterward?"

"On to Caera, to do much the same," _as well as some other diplomatic functions,_ she silently added. "I expect to take months in time."

He said nothing for a moment, as if he was digesting this information.

Then Kouen began: "We have need of an ambassador in Kou, after we conclude in Tohouku."

She didn't understand where this conversation was going. An ambassador?

"Ambassador Korechika is on the diplomatic commission in Kou."

"King Mameyoshi is of the opinion he won't be able to carry out these added duties. With the alliance finalized tomorrow, there is much more work to be done in an ambassadorial capacity by someone capable."

 _Funny,_ she thought sourly, _I thought I sensed a compliment there._

"And you're requesting me."

Kouen raised a single brow. A little arrogantly, he questioned, "You doubt your own competence?"

"No," Sayu circled the rim of her steaming cup of tea, trying to surmise exactly why it would be _Kouen_ who was entreating _her_ to be a Jishouan _ambassador._ It wasn't the height of propriety…to say the least. "It's a peculiar request."

Not to mention, if her father were actively looking for a replacement to Korechika, she would've gotten wind of it.

"It was Koumei who brought up the possibility during this morning's meeting," The prince stated matter-of-factly. "Kou needs advisement on doing trade with Jishou, and Jishou would appreciate the information gathered during this period. We needed someone with trade experience, and someone we were familiar with, at the very best."

She went on to find out that they were not looking for Korechika's replacement—on the contrary, they needed someone with essentially the same skill set to supplement his efforts, and it had been her father who suggested her for position in the first place. Koumei had (apparently) immediately taken up the suggestion to have her as the newly-created post of the Jishouan trade ambassador.

And this would be a strange post, no doubt about it. Kou would pay for all the expenses, and the ambassador would be afforded a place to stay in a smaller wing of the imperial palace at Rakushou, since this was a post specifically created at Kou's request.

Evidently Sayu had been too quiet—Kouen had stopped staring at her and begun to pour himself his own cup of tea, wordlessly awaiting her answer.

Her first instinct had been to utter _no, my place is here._

But instead she gracelessly blurted out: "Forgive me, but this is a decision I would need ample time to consider."

She waited for him to excuse her so she could leave, but when he still said nothing, she forced herself to look at him.

Kouen was sipping away at his tea peacefully, his eyes on her the entire time, as if curiously watching to see what she'd do.

She held back the urge to purse her lips in distaste, having been caught in an inexplicably uncomfortable situation. Sayuri bowed her head, saying, "I need some time alone. Excuse me."

Without another word she stood and dusted herself off, mechanically smoothing her robes and clasping her hands in her sleeves, and making the trek up the mountain without looking back.

* * *

She summoned her brothers and Kuja.

"This is…unusual." Yuki commented.

They were gathered around her low table, eating some dried dates Kuja had brought with him from Ariavat. Kuja himself was half-busy pulling the pits from the dates and handing her the fruit, even as he listened to her story.

Shiro popped another date in his mouth, chewing with a bewildered expression. When he swallowed, he said, "I had heard that Kou was looking for such a person. I had never really imagined Koumei to approach father about it, however."

Nobushiro's voice dropped an octave, gravely. "I had never imagined father to name you, either."

Her eldest brother looked slightly disturbed by the admission.

All the while Kuja looked at her with a worried frown, tearing the date he'd had into pieces. Sayu put a hand over his, silently telling him to stop mangling the fruit. He looked down at their joined hands with a surprised expression.

"Oh," He said blankly. He sighed and shook his head, putting away the date and wiping his hands on a rag Sayu handed him. "Yet wouldn't you say it's a most logical decision? You've been doing trade work for the last years. You are the First Princess, and good friends with Prince Koumei. Kou would be hard pressed to find someone else in Jishou who would like to see the alliance flourish with trade more than you."

Sayuri cringed. "But…"

The doors to her rooms slid open. Someone announced, "His Majesty the King!"

All four of them stood, and when her father strode into her room with a smile, they bowed.

"At ease, all of you," King Mameyoshi said, genially. He looked at her brothers and Kuja, "now, I hope you wouldn't mind terribly if I borrowed Sayuri here for a minute, would you?"

Shiro shook his head. "No, father. We'll leave, and you can have the room."

"Nonsense, Nobushiro," The King said, and he beckoned her over with a wave of his hand. "We'll use the balcony. It's a fine day today, after all. If you'll excuse us."

The three of them nodded, but they moved her table to the edge of the room, and sent her furtive looks. Shiro raised a brow at her, but turned to the rest of his company with a sigh.

Outside, her father brought her over to the railings. Surprised with a meeting for the second time today, she stayed silent.

She came to realize she felt somewhat betrayed by him—especially when he had named her for Kou's trade ambassador. Betrayed and shocked, but for reasons she had yet to understand.

Though she knew her silence was a product of not really knowing what to say to him, when she had so much to think about. For the first time in quite a while, she was literally speechless.

"News travels fast," The King began without preamble. He seemed to survey the skyline hedged with trees and the sea, a thoughtful expression on his face. "And I expect Ren Kouen to have already informed you of him and his brother's generous offer."

Her eyebrow twitched at _generous._

"And I suspect that the court you gathered with your brothers and Alihaddra was to mull over this offer of theirs. How wise my daughter has become."

He was looking at her with a grin. "Yet she seems unable to speak to me, even with such glowing prospects."

"Father," She choked out, "stop."

The King turned to her. "It would be best if you accept this post, Sayuri. There is none more capable, and none more driven to make this alliance successful than my own children, who will one day manage the affairs of the country in my stead."

"I—" Sayuri clenched her fists, hidden by the sleeves of her robes. "—I have other duties, father. I am expected by the Caeran senate next month!"

King Mameyoshi didn't even blink. "You have served them well enough in this last decade." He looked at her quizzically, "I would have expected you to like the change in scenery. Nobushiro told me of how you wished to leave the Triangle."

"This is not a decision to be made so lightly," She tried, "you're well aware of this, father."

"And what has given you the impression I've not deliberated upon this with my own counsel? Even the ministers agree you are the best candidate for this position."

He sighed.

"Ultimately, this decision is up to you." He cracked a smile at her. "I have learned to let you make your own choices now."

She let out a breath at that, her nerves worn threadbare—she wanted to rattle a laugh at his choice words.

 _It's not much of a decision you leave me with_.

"Try to enjoy the party tonight, daughter," The King patted her shoulder benignly. "There will be some guests you remember fondly, if I recall correctly."

She nodded, feeling numb. "Yes, father."

* * *

The Ariavatan embassy held a banquet that night, in celebration of two things: the arrival of their Crown Prince, and the newly formed alliance of Kou and Jishou. The Ariavatan ambassador had rushed over from the capital when news of Kuja's visit reached there—and along with him, he managed to bring none other than the Caeran ambassador and Kyouya Korechika himself.

The people of Jishou knew how to throw a raucous party, but when Ariavat held a banquet with the Jishouan people in attendance…things would _truly_ get uproarious. But it was not as if the royal families of both countries minded; no, not when they condoned the dancing and drinking and spiritedly joined in the festivities themselves.

But Nobushiro had to hold back, since tomorrow would be a momentous occasion. Kou was going to formally ask for Mameha's hand in marriage, and he wanted to be present with a clear head.

Koumei was similarly quiet beside him. Shiro topped his empty cup with some date wine, and held his own cup high.

He silently decided to avoid all talk of his soon-to-be-wed baby sister.

"Cheer up, Koumei."

 _It'll all be over soon._

Truthfully, he couldn't wait to get back to his real court duties, but he would undoubtedly miss the time he spent in Tohouku with his family.

The two were sitting a bit to the side, away from the main platform where Kuja and Sayu sat with a group of courtiers, both local and foreign, busy conversing amongst themselves. Shiro looked at his friend with a grin. "I suppose you already miss being in Kou."

The Kou prince sighed quietly. "I do, in all honesty."

They clinked their cups, then gulped down the mildly sweet wine.

Koumei brought his fan up, hiding his face. Shiro already knew he would be asking him a question, so he leaned in so his friend could whisper in his ear.

"Who may that be, Nobushiro?"

The Crown Prince of Jishou followed Koumei's line of sight. Naturally, it led to where Sayu was sitting beside Kuja, though there was a striking figure standing next to her.

He had to laugh. He leaned away from Koumei, stifling chuckles. In his normal tone of speaking, he said, "That man," he pointed discreetly at the noble speaking to Sayu, "is Kyouya Korechika. Jishou's ambassador to Kou. He's one of the most powerful noblemen around here, is he unrecognizable to you?"

Of course Kyouya would be taking the effort to speak to Sayu, especially with Kuja right beside her. Shiro licked his lips, determined not to laugh even more.

"I see." Koumei said. "Strangely, I haven't had the honor of meeting him."

Shiro grinned. "Let me indulge you in a fair bit of gossip everyone in court knows."

He pointed at Kyouya, who was now seated at Sayu's left. "Him,"

He pointed at Sayuri. "Her."

He looked at Koumei, wriggling his eyebrow. "Years ago…"

Then he looked at the cup of wine he held, so Koumei would follow his gaze there.

Shiro stuck out his pinky finger.

"Get it?"

The redhead looked baffled. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"The pinky finger," Shiro put down his cup and raised the finger in question, "it means they're joined romantically. Boyfriend and girlfriend, mistress, love interest, that sort of thing. Though what I tried to tell was she and Kyouya used to…"

Shiro held up a dried date with a laugh. "Date. Understand now?"

Koumei nodded.

"It was rather awkward, really, because we were all kids," Nobushiro reminisced, "and Kuja used to be furious at him as a child. Father rejected the Korechika clan's proposal of Kyouya marrying Sayu. Then when Sayu came back from Caera, she rejected Kyouya's second proposal herself."

As if thinking on his words, the redhead widened his eyes. Shiro chuckled at his reaction—"Surely you don't think just because my sister is without a husband, she must go without prospects. She is a great asset to have on your side, especially with all her connections."

Truthfully, Sayu had accumulated a great deal of marriage proposals over the years after her first marriage; she had instantly turned all of them down without a second thought. Such was the liberty the death of the Crown Prince of Caera afforded her, and she'd told Shiro that she would never relinquish that same freedom.

 _Not when it came with such a steep price,_ she'd uttered wryly. He understood; in his opinion, she'd already done her duty to Jishou by marrying that prince, and she was perfectly free to do as she pleased, as long as she kept her country's interests in mind. It had taken some time for the King to understand that, but eventually he relented, and she was allowed to accompany the Minister of Trade on his diplomatic missions.

Shiro looked behind him. "Prince Kouen," he said with a small start.

He privately wondered how much of their conversation he'd overheard. "Have you tried the date wine? It's mulled with spices from Ariavat."

The Kou Prince shook his head, so Shiro poured him a cup, and drew him into a different conversation.

* * *

Kuja asked her to dance with him.

 _What did I expect,_ she laughed softly, _when we're in an Ariavatan party meant to honor him._

She'd been somber all evening, though the appearance of the ambassadors had made her smile. They were her fond friends—as her father had said earlier—and she spent a lot of her time with them, especially when she went overseas. Even Korechika had come all the way from the capital, and was now sitting by her side.

She sighed, and stripped herself of some of her silk robes. She loosened the damask sash tied about her waist. She loosely tied another piece of silk around her hair, securing it in a low ponytail.

"Shall we?" Kuja asked, with a smile. He stood, bowed with his hand extended toward her.

She took his hand, but didn't stand. "Fool," She said. "You're still wearing your rings."

He suddenly gripped her hand tight and pulled her up without a care. "I can dance just as well!"

And they were off.

Ariavatan dances were vigorous and fast paced, following the thunderous beat of their drums and reedy flutes. It involved a lot of twirling, sweeping hand gestures, and cooperation with your partner—though in Kuja's arms she was allowed to be a little more loose with following the dance forms, and he laughed along with her when she made mistakes.

They circled around each other and danced on the balls of their feet; she gradually felt her mood grow lighter and lighter, until she forgot her worries from earlier.

If there was one thing for certain—Jishouan robes were not meant for such rigorous dancing, not when she tripped over her own robe and Kuja barely managed to catch her on time. They landed on the floor and on top of each other, but she crawled off of him with giggles uncontrollably bubbling up her throat and Kuja wriggling beneath her with his chuckles.

* * *

She waited for Kuja some ways away from the beachside manse where the party was being held. She'd wandered about the Ariavatan ambassador's private beach for some time, uncaringly letting her splendid midnight blue robes trail on the white sand.

She'd taken off her socks and her shoes sometime earlier, and dug her toes into the loose ground.

Sayuri was also feeling the slightest bit tipsy tonight, but nobody knew that except Kuja. In fact, she held a cup of date wine in her hand, though it was hidden by the sleeve of the outer robe she'd donned before leaving the party.

Tonight the seas were calm, and the moon looked a little bigger than usual. It was a bright full moon that night—and the white moonlight reflected off the waters in such a way that it made them sparkle.

"A good omen," She said aloud to nobody in particular, remembering the bare bones of the astrology she'd once begged her father to have a master teach her as a child, "on a night praised to be auspicious by even the wise magisters in Ariavat. A good day for great changes to occur, and for traveling toward the west."

Strange, that she would read into the situation as fortuitous. It was as if the world were telling her to accept Kouen's offer. She held up her cup of wine, watching it glitter in the night.

The amber liquid in her hands distantly reminded her of Kuja's eyes.

"Princess,"

She looked to the side. "Prince Kouen," She greeted softly.

Another chance encounter with the Crown Prince of Kou.

 _Think of the devil and he shall appear,_ but she winced at that. She was being unkind. The night out had done her considerable good, and she decided on trying not to be unpleasant.

"I don't think I've ever apologized for my rude behavior before," Sayu turned to him. She bowed lowly, "Forgive me." When she straightened, she smiled with a tinge of wryness. "I was curt with you, when we first met and had tea. I think I've still been curt today."

"There is no need for your apology." Kouen replied. He was wearing his usual maroon and white robes, the same robes she'd seen him wear that day he stepped off the Kou ship and entered Tohouku.

They suited him very well. They always had, and Prince Kouen was a muscular man with a noble bearing. Once again she was reminded of how attractive everyone seemed to find him.

"What brings you to the beach?" She paused. Then she added absently, "There are many merchants willing to make your acquaintance in the party. It will be beneficial to Kou."

"I wanted to speak to you."

The comment made her grin. She teased, "All alone and on a beautiful moonlit night such as this? How fortunate for me."

Kouen spoke as if he hadn't heard her jesting. He stepped closer to her, "Prince Alihaddra told me you were outside."

She raised a brow at that. Sayu looked at him intently with a smirk, "I was supposed to meet _him_ , not you, sorry."

The Crown Prince of Kou refused to budge. He still made no acknowledgement of her teasing.

"Have you made a decision yet?"

Sayuri wanted to snort into her date wine. "No."

He said nothing for a moment. He turned to look at the waters.

 _He's broodier than I thought he'd be,_ she reflected. Perhaps it was to be expected however, him being an imperial prince. And he was an intelligent prince that probably thought constantly of matters of state.

"Does your reluctance have anything to do with working alongside Kyouya Korechika in the diplomatic corps?"

She looked at him confusedly.

Kouen merely stared back at her, a brow raised.

Sayu took a sip of her wine to help her think.

…

She swallowed.

"Oh, you can't possibly be speaking about—"

The thought made her go red.

She pursed her lips, mortified by the burn in her cheeks. She looked away from him. "…Who told you?"

For Ren Kouen to have _that_ tidbit of court gossip—old court gossip, what's more—was ridiculous.

Sayuri sighed. There was only one person with a set of lips that loose, whose sole aim was to embarrass her. "My brother, correct?"

"Correct."

There was that slightest bit of amusement in his tone that made her pause and glower at Kouen. His mouth was set in a smirk, and his red eyes were glimmering with something dangerous. He drawled, in that slow and taunting tone of his, "Well, does it?"

"No."

Heavens no.

She tried explaining the situation as diplomatically as possible. "I have many duties," She began, "that require constant attention in the Triangle, duties I cannot leave to just anyone. I do know of several people more than capable of working as your trade ambassador however, should I ultimately refuse."

It already sounded like a refusal. The princess tried gauging his reaction, but Kouen was stoical as usual. He seemed to accept her answer with a nod.

" _Saaaaaayuuuuuuuriiiiii!"_

They both looked at the lights of the house on the other end of the beach. Kuja was waving at her on a balcony of the mansion with a crooked grin. "It's getting cold! Come back inside!"

Sayuri looked at Kouen with a shrug.

The prince shook his head.

They both made their way back into the party.

* * *

The party went on after midnight, but the Kou delegation, with Prince Nobushiro Jie, retired earlier.

Koumei watched the festivities from afar. High up on his balcony, he could easily tell which mansion the Ariavatan ambassador resided in, since it was by the beach and its lights were still on.

He was already in his sleeping clothes, but he couldn't stop the motion his hand made, fanning himself even when he was beginning to get chills from the cold mountain air.

Kouen stepped out on the balcony, also changed out of his ceremonial robes. He looked relaxed as ever, even with the changes—the changes tomorrow would inevitably bring.

He recounted his night: Nobushiro had talked to him, and Nobuyuki had briefly slurred a conversation with him as well. Alihaddra and Sayuri had monopolized each other's attention all night, though they both bid him a good night's rest when he went to leave for the summer palace.

Mameha had been absent—on orders of her father, of course. Tomorrow would change her life as well, after all.

He swallowed down the overwhelming urge to sigh at the stars.

He'd never felt more awake.

There were two things tomorrow would need to serve: the Empire and the Emperor.

"Koumei," Kouen called.

He started. He blinked at his older brother. "Brother,"

Kouen was looking at him with a strange expression. His brows were slightly furrowed—it looked like he was perplexed by Koumei's behavior.

"Get some rest."

"I'm not sleepy, that's alright. Is there anything else that needs to be done?"

"Koumei," Kouen repeated. "Get some rest. Tomorrow will require our alertness."

He stopped fanning Dantalion, instead choosing to hold it close to his heart. "Both father and the Empire will be…happy, tomorrow, with our efforts."

Koumei excused himself quietly, intending to go into his room and read a scroll Sayu had lent him—but Kouen's chuckle stopped him in his tracks.

When he looked back, a corner of his brother's mouth was lifted upwards. "You forget your happiness too, Mei. Go to sleep."

* * *

Sayuri rose well into the mid-morning, with a disastrous hangover. But he was told Kuja visited her in her rooms soon after, alleviating her headache with a special Ariavatan blend of tea.

They were both laughing in bed, nursing their own cups of tea, when Nobushiro strode into her room.

She looked at him with a grin. "Welcome, brother. Kuja and I were just talking about taking a magic carpet to Ariavat tomorrow, after the Kou delegation leaves."

"Cancel the magic carpet ride," He said—later, he would come to congratulate himself with how his voice hadn't broken with the strength of his shock.

"What have you done," Shiro muttered, almost to himself. He sat down by Sayu's side.

"You look distraught," Sayuri uttered slowly, wide-eyed. She put away her teacup. "What happened at this morning's meeting?"

He gingerly reached for Sayu's hand, ignoring the keenly interested look in Kuja's eyes.

"Sister," he whispered, "Ren Kouen has formally asked for your hand in marriage."

* * *

Notes:

Oh, but I bet you guys saw that coming. A treat for you kind readers, who had to deal with last chapter.

(1) I play a lot of video games with magicians in them; I hate the way the fight scenes are choreographed in Magi so I'm trying to spice it up. Though writing magical fight scenes is about 1000x harder than writing normal fight scenes. For Kuja's scepter, it's about...baton length? It looks like what a mage's staff would look like, if you play any Final Fantasy.

(2) The King is pesky, but he's just trying to be a good king, and a good dad (sort of.)

(3) Pinkies: it's really a thing. Google it if you want, it's adorable. And Shiro is conflating the gossip, I'd say a more accurate version of Sayu/Kyouya is "they had a crush on each other as kids and hung out together but dad didn't really like the korechika clan so it didn't work out"

(4) I'd love to hear what you guys think of _why_ these events are happening. Like, _wth is Kouen thinking?_ That sorta thing. Also, we're starting the next chapter with Mameha's POV.

Anyway, leave me a review! Tell me if I'm out of my mind or something for letting this happen!


	8. The Blooming Dawn

**8**

 _The Blooming Dawn_

By most accounts, Mameha Jie was a beautiful girl. This was what her attendants, her friends, her chaperone had always told her; pale skin, lustrous silver hair and green eyes so deep it would have been enough to win anyone over.

"Such beautiful hair," her chaperone said smilingly, her red-gold reflection looking at her through the shining copper mirror. "It is a relief to know you take care of it so much, Princess."

Mameha said nothing, twitching a small grin for the older woman but otherwise lowering her eyes.

The truth was she felt ill about that morning, even if her hair looked as beautiful as usual—so ill she'd woken up just as the dawn cracked. She'd gone for a walk about the woods with no one but her guards; she hadn't felt like waking any of her retinue to accompany her, but of course there had been one other person awake that morning, already peaceably sipping tea at the gardens.

"You're unusually quiet this morning, Mameha," Kuja had remarked when she stopped by to observe him sitting under a willow tree. "Does it have to do with later's announcements?"

Her stomach had given a small flip at that. "Just feeling a little under the weather, is all."

"Come sit, I'll tell you a story."

She had forgotten what it was like to sit with him and listen and have a small talk—and it was evident that even Kuja himself had forgotten the feeling, when he admitted that he'd been spending most of his time with Sayuri, so much so that he hadn't had the chance to chat with her.

"I don't mind." She'd said. "I know you and Sayu haven't seen each other in a while."

Her mind had been otherwise occupied with something else— _someone_ else—in the course of their sojourn to Tohouku, anyway.

He tapped her nose at that. "Still," he said, "I'll see about inviting you to Ariavat, when I return there."

She'd scrunched her face at his finger, but then laughed and excused herself.

"And now we wait." Her chaperone brought her out of her musings. Mameha glanced upwards, observing the older woman's excited face. "Any minute now, and we'll be getting the news."

True to her word, another person entered her rooms to bring the news. But it wasn't the Queen, like tradition dictated, like she'd expected; it was Nobuyuki.

Her older brother came in with his brows furrowed and fists shaking. He was talking to himself, and the sight of his disheveled hair and face pale with anger made her chaperone put the brush down on the vanity quietly.

Mameha felt her mouth go dry. "Yuki." She greeted.

The look in her brother's eyes was heart-wrenching—the excruciating sadness and frustration mixed in one caused the hair on her arm to rise.

He finally spoke: "Mameha."

Yuki said it with so much defeat he sounded like a man brought to his knees. She stood, approached him with her breath in her throat.

"What is it," She whispered.

 _Please,_ she silently prayed, _please don't let it be what I think it is._

He took her by the arm and sat her down on her bed. "It's the Kou delegation. They—they— _Kouen—_ "

The name of the Crown Prince of Kou on her brother's lips made her eyes go wide.

"—he wants to marry Sayu. Not—not you and Koumei—but Sayu and Kouen. It isn't at all what we planned."

She'd thought the negotiations had unexpectedly fallen through, and surely the situation wasn't as grave or as devastating as Yuki was acting like it was—yet all the same her heart was thundering, and her face burned with something she just _wouldn't_ call as shame when she heard Koumei hadn't proposed to her, like she thought he would.

Like everybody had promised—like everybody had prepared her for.

There was a shriek in the room; distantly, Mameha could recognize it as her chaperone's furiousness echoing in the morning.

"This is an outrage!" The older woman breathed. She got down in front of Mameha, clutching her robes at her knees; she pushed back her silver hair with a loving hand and murmured, "This is that woman's doing—she has been meeting alone with Prince Koumei this summer, she wants it all to herself, but you must let her know she _cannot take this away from you too—"_

Mameha reeled back and looked at her with shock, not believing the words coming out of her mouth. "That woman is my sister," she cried with a hollow sort of horror.

"And look at what she has done to you." The older woman's eyes saw through her. Mameha's heart jumped into her throat, unable to reply to the unthinkable.

"Enough!" Yuki stood, jaw clenched. He seethed, "Leave us. If I beheaded you for slandering my sister's good name in front of Mameha, she would be devastated. Be grateful that Sayuri knows kindness more than you do."

Her chaperone shied away from them both, the dangerous expression of a wounded predator shadowing her face. "You should know, Prince Nobuyuki, that what I do I only do for Princess Mameha—"

"Get out!" He thundered.

The woman shut up, but not without sending a look at her that Mameha couldn't understand.

Yuki called one of his attendants after her leave, saying, "Follow her. Send someone discreet to find out her activities in the summer palace."

Then: silence.

Mameha looked at her hands, after all the commotion had gone and it was just the two of them in her room.

"That was the first time she's ever said anything like that to me."

Above her, Yuki sighed. He sat down on her bed again, and when he next spoke he sounded tired, as if all the anger he'd felt rushed out of him and left only exhaustion: "I…"

She smiled at him a little sadly. "It's alright." The princess licked her lips and breathed deeply, not relishing the words she had to say next.

"What did father say?"

Mameha glanced at him. Her brother seemed to be battling with yet another onslaught of emotion at the mention of their father. He knit his brows, curling his lip as he disparaged: "You know what? You can ask father yourself. He promised you this."

* * *

On their way, they passed by Sayu's rooms. The doors to her rooms were open; inside, she could see the minute changes in her sister's face as Shiro sat down. When she and Yuki paused at the doorway, she found Kuja's eyes flitting toward her with surprise.

Nobushiro whispered something in Sayuri's ear.

She could see the exact way the blood drained from the First Princess of Jishou's face.

"I—no, you're joking."

There was laughter. An uncomfortable laugh had tumbled out of Sayuri's lips, as she pushed Shiro's hand away from her and shook her head. "That's impossible. The negotiations—the _dowry—"_

Shiro looked at her sister intently. Haltingly, he bit out, "I understand that Kou knows this is an impossible request to ask of Jishou. They made it clear this morning. One of their amendments to the marriage contract is their generous refusal to accept Mameha's dowry in exchange for your hand."

The younger princess felt her chest seize at the declaration— _what do they mean—_

Another sickening, hysterical laugh forced itself out of Sayu. "As if—" and here her usually pleasant voice cracked, the pitch of it near-disappearing into her nervousness, leaving only a breathless whisper, "as if Mameha is worth anything less—as if they're willing to let father give _her_ away, but not _me—_ "

At that moment, her older sister looked to the open doors of her room. She stood. "Mameha—!"

Mameha couldn't make herself return her sister's gaze, now that Sayu's ever-pale green eyes tried desperately to meet her own. She looked away. "S-Sayu..."

She fumbled with her words, focusing on a spot on the straw mats, avoiding all eye contact with anything remotely living. "W-We…we should speak to father about this."

Another voice answered her.

"We should," Shiro interjected, voice level and firm. "Come with us, Kuja."

* * *

They all got on their knees and bowed before the King, hands in front of them and their silver hair spilled all over the straw floor.

"Rise, all of you," The King said, and even in her state Mameha could recognize her father's voice as being uncharacteristically distracted.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sayu rise—elegantly, lithely, and her face looking as if she'd smoothed out all the emotion before meeting with their father; Mameha thought it so striking but fitting, for something Sayu had to do. She unhesitatingly addressed the King: "Father, I would like to know if you've already accepted Kou's proposal."

Mameha rose as well, sitting back on her haunches and trying to keep her hands from trembling.

 _How can she be so calm at a time like this,_ her mind half-whispered and half-marveled to her. There was something she did not understand going on, she just knew it; yet still she did her best to look even just half as assured as Sayuri was, silently steeling her burning face over the thundering of her heart.

She watched her father glance to her left with a raised brow, where Shiro sat. Mameha didn't see her brother's expression, but wordlessly and quickly enough Mameyoshi's gaze returned to Sayu. He sounded measured this time, like he usually was, and some small part of Mameha took comfort in his confidence. "I haven't. Such a considerable change in the marriage contract requires proper examination."

"Then may I ask—" Sayuri bowed over her hands again, "—why we haven't insisted on Mameha's betrothal to Ren Koumei?"

This was the first time Mameha had ever heard Sayu speak with such open defiance to their father. Yet sneaking glances at her companions, it bafflingly seemed as if the only one shocked with Sayu's behavior was _her,_ and her brothers (this included Kuja) looked not at all affected by the question.

Shiro was stonefaced, lips set tight against one another in a frown. Yuki looked outright livid with their father. And Kuja…Kuja was unaffectedly gazing at the King, as if he was completely detached from the situation and was only coldly calculating just how the King would react.

Their strange reactions doused her spine with dread, and she too gazed at her father, at once fearful of his reaction. His fist tightened, but he looked away at Sayuri's impertinence—he instead chose to stare outside the window.

But then he sighed, and looked back at them.

All of them.

"There are things that I have contemplated, especially regarding this alliance." The King spoke deliberately, slowing his words as if to make sure they all understood what he was saying, "Things that I would not have dared consider before, were it not for today's developments.

"Jishou also has a duty to keep the sanctity of the peace in the Triangle. For these reasons I lean towards accepting Ren Kouen's unusual proposal, and have not insisted on Mameha's betrothal."

Mameha felt her face burn even hotter. What things were at play, what things were at stake? Why was her father speaking so cryptically?

Why hadn't anyone bothered to educate her of these _things_ her father contemplated, when they were so obviously important to the welfare of Jishou and the Triangle? Was she not a member of the royal family, a princess of Jishou, with her own duties and responsibilities to fulfill?

Why was she not entrusted with all the things her father would rather burden Sayuri with?

"Sayuri," Her father said. "On the virtue that you have already been betrothed to the former Crown Prince of Caera, this decision is ultimately still yours. But I would speak to you, first."

Something wet grazed the hem of her robe's sleeve. She shifted her hands, and when she looked down, redness was gathered at her fingertips, dripping from her chin in two drops.

Belatedly, she realized she'd bit down on and broken the skin of her lip without thinking.

She lifted a hand to discreetly swipe the offending liquids pooling in her face, attending to the burning in her eyes as well.

Blood and tears.

 _This is not the time to cry,_ she reminded herself. _Not in front of father._

Sayu was still bowed over her hands when she mechanically replied: "Yes, father."

The King gazed out over their faces. But when his eyes stopped at her, she looked at her hands again. Her brothers excused themselves, but they would not leave until she went with them.

Mameha hurriedly splayed her hands in front of her and bowed. "I-I will take my leave as well, father."

When she rose, she pretended not to see the way her father's face twisted in on itself.

* * *

"How cruel, to say that in front of Mameha."

King Mameyoshi said nothing. Sayu tilted her head, wondering what he was thinking about.

They stood before the inner gardens built into the center of her father's wing of the summer palace; the servants had pulled all the doors open, and his solarium was rightfully flooded with the light pouring in from outside—Sayuri could spot her mother and her youngest sisters having tea in the garden.

"Mameha knows her duty," Her father said, tone distant. "But you have earned your independence. She is aware of this. _Kou_ is aware of this. Yet I never would have thought them so brash."

She raised a brow at that. "Brash? What do you mean?"

"Ren Kouen. I have the feeling he will not back down from this until you accept." Mameyoshi turned his head to her, a crooked smile alighting on his lips, "He knows you're too principled to shirk your duties."

"It's tasteless," She muttered.

"It's well in character for Kou." He chuckled, darkly. "Still, it works just as well for us. Do you know why I haven't offered your brothers to Kou?"

Sayuri pursed her lips, before answering. It was an easy question, one she had already thought upon countless times while in Tohouku. "You want to keep an eye on the Empire. Having a Kou princess in the Triangle accomplishes nothing for us."

"Right. I expect their princesses to be just as tight-lipped as their brothers, and just as loyal to Kou. We need someone to make sure all terms of the alliance are upheld, as well as a keen eye to keep us in touch with the Empire's activities. I've always worried Mameha would be daunted by the responsibility. It's a great deal to put on her shoulders."

The King said all this as if he'd explained this to someone before, like it was a lesson he'd already given. Sayu simply nodded her head, digesting his words.

"As for Kouen's motives," And here his voice turned light, and he placed an arm around her shoulder. "I only have baseless speculation. It's something we can talk about later. For now, take all the time you need to think."

* * *

Pale skin, lustrous silver hair and green eyes so deep, but these were not things to win Kou princes over—beauty was only skin deep.

But something about Sayuri had always gone farther than that; people had always liked to talk about how beautiful Mameha was, but Sayuri never stayed long enough in court to hear the praises they sang for her.

Her older sister was a princess that didn't come in the traditional mold Jishou dictated—she was unwed, she was outspoken and flouted tradition by freely associating with whomever courtier she pleased, entangling herself in and accomplishing work intended only for wizened old men and their sons. She was an outsider yet an insider at the same time, integral to and adored by the court she served.

Maybe she should've been jealous. It was what the gossiping court women expected her to be, when she practically walked in her sister's tremendous shadow; now that Sayuri had unexpectedly attracted the Crown Prince of Kou's attention—those kinds of whispers would only grow louder in the coming period.

She was not jealous.

Instead, she was silent.

She would not be marrying—she would be expected to carry on as she'd done before their sojourn to the summer palace…and what did that entail?

 _The life of a princess,_ Mameha quietly looked at her hands, _has never sounded so straightforward._

Yuki had visited her in the afternoon, with Shiro and Kuja in tow. She'd been surprised by the last two's appearance—she'd thought they would be with her older sister. But they came to visit, after she'd spent the entire mid-day in her rooms.

It was nice, if a little quiet. Sayu's absence was noticeable by the way Shiro would inexplicably quiet himself, or by the remoteness of Kuja's expressions. They could all keep a comfortable conversation between them, yet it was never more apparent that they all had something else on their minds.

 _She cannot take this away from you too,_ her former chaperone had said this morning, and it was such a strange and vicious thing to say, when Mameha thought about everything that had been taken away from Sayuri—and everything that she had regained in subsequent years.

If there was anyone more deserving of everything that had been allowed to them, it would be her sister.

Mameha wondered if Sayuri would accept Kouen's proposal.

It seemed like something she would and wouldn't do. In a moment of short-lived brevity—Mameha remembered Sayu had never really been very fond of the Crown Prince of Kou's company.

"It's almost sundown," Shiro commented absently, putting down his teacup and gazing outside her window.

It was true; the day was already painted a burnt orange and the clouds hung low. The last few days had been especially pleasant, and her servants had told her the temperatures weren't so sweltering down at the coast that it would be enjoyable to visit the beach.

Perhaps it would be something she would do before business here would be over.

Yuki returned from outside, carrying a fresh tray of food from the kitchens. Shiro looked at him, then extended Yuki's cup of tea to him.

"Nobody's seen Sayu all afternoon," Yuki said. And there it was again: the flashes of worry her brothers would express, whenever they remotely drifted into a conversation with her older sister in it. It was as if there was some silent, unanimous decision to not speak about Sayuri that afternoon; she knew that it would be out of respect of course, especially with the proposal she had to think about.

At least now they would openly speak about it. Mameha accepted the treats Yuki had gotten for her and proceeded to slowly eat them one by one.

Shiro had also stopped at Yuki's words. Her eldest brother wordlessly gazed at Kuja, who'd looked up at Yuki's remark.

"Kuja," Shiro knit his brows. "Dinner is in a while. Knowing Sayu, she probably hasn't had anything to eat since morning."

Yuki sat by her, sighing. "No one's seen her in the castle. Fuu said she might be in the gardens."

At this, Kuja nodded. He stood up, dusting himself off; then he reached in his robe, and pulled out a thin piece of fabric that had been folded and tucked away—Mameha recognized it instantly.

He seemed not at all worried about Sayu's state. Instead, he looked thoughtful as he carefully unfolded the fabric with his long, ringed fingers. His voice, deep and in its forever placid tone, spoke: "Not to worry. I know where she'll be."

Shiro's eyes returned to his tea without missing a beat. "Thank you."

Yuki was silent at this exchange, but he nodded gratefully at Kuja.

Mameha didn't really understand—but she knew her siblings trusted Kuja fully. She knew Kuja was a magister, and was Sayu's truest friend. But still the way Shiro could so easily leave this task off to Kuja surprised her, especially when he'd acted so concerned the entire afternoon.

 _Just another thing I'm apart from,_ a little voice in the back of her head echoed. She'd been told many stories about her older siblings and Kuja's friendship; even as a child spending her summers in Tohouku, she'd always envied how the four of them went off into the woods together but she would be made to stay in the palace with her parents and little sisters.

Mameha had since made headway by creating her own bond with Yuki. Yet Nobushiro and Sayuri had always been thick as thieves, and Mameha _knew_ Shiro didn't treat her the way he treated Sayu—always with laughter, with mock, with affection, with high regard, and with utter confidence.

And that was nothing to speak of how deep the connection was between Sayuri and Kuja. Although Kuja was fond of her, it was nothing in comparison to how close he was to her sister. As children, it was always Sayu and Kuja, Kuja and Sayu—never one without the other, and Mameha had secretly wished for a best friend like the one her older sister had.

Even as everyone grew old and their lives unfolded, somehow the two of them managed to make it look like nothing at all had changed, and sometimes it was a comforting thing to listen to the both of them talk to each other, as if they were still kids.

She watched Kuja unfurl the cloth with a flick of his wrist, before letting go. The cloth rose in the air, laying itself flat, like it was waiting for someone to ride it.

Then he nodded at her brothers, but left her with a tranquil smile. "I'll be off, then."

* * *

For all her supposed expertise in diplomacy, Sayuri had never truly expected the Kou delegation to conclude their alliance negotiation with a marriage proposal—not to Mameha, like they'd all been led to believe—but to _her._

A laugh rattled out of her chest, broken and familiar. She'd genuinely thought it a joke, at first; such a thing to come at such a time, it required the proper preparation, as propriety called for. Sayu hadn't been there during the announcement of the proposal, but she imagined Shiro had been shocked beyond words—speechless with fury—and her father had calmly regarded the Kou delegation with a new kind of reckoning.

 _Only Ren Kouen would be so bold,_ she thought sardonically.

And that was the truth of it: of all the men, of all the propositions, she knew deep in her heart that this was one thing—one _person_ —she could not refuse.

But her father had been relieved, as he'd practically told her that afternoon. To leave the safety of their newborn alliance to Mameha's hands, it had secretly disturbed her father; yet now with Kouen's proposal, they could leave the job to someone more capable.

Or so her father seemed to think.

Sayuri had thought Mameha able enough to grow into such a role. She would doubt, she would worry, but she would always come back to the fact that her sister was just as willing as anyone else in their family to faithfully carry out their duty: Sayu always knew she could do it, and her role as older sister would then be to guide and help Mameha on her way to being a princess of Kou.

And perhaps Mameha had prepared herself for this version of the future, too.

The crestfallen look on her sister's face, the nervous way in which she seemed to crumple in on herself when they all went to speak to their father—and to have to acknowledge the fact that Ren Kouen and Ren Koumei had passed her over for _Sayuri,_ the childless widow already well-past marriageable age?

 _She must think she lacks in something._

But the truth was she didn't. The only thing conceivable from the way events had turned out was:

Kouen was more arrogant than she'd originally thought.

 _Just as I was beginning to think he was tolerable,_ she added, _he defies all expectation._

Sayuri sighed, closing her eyes, listening to the sound of the beach's cascading waves, the whispering coastal wind.

Her father's wing of the summer palace was at the very back of the main keep; it was more private and heavily guarded, with walls closing off the rest of the forest from the palace's grounds. She'd come to her father's wing by herself that afternoon; when she left it, she'd been by herself as well.

It had been a simple walk, from the south of the keep to the very edge of the palace's grounds, where the forest of evergreens gave way to rocky cliffs, standing tall above the waves crashing against it and the white sand pooled at its bottom. A path had already been cleared, with wooden railings and carmine red gateways built, and steps paved along the way.

No one had followed her. But someone would come along eventually, in search of her.

She'd already made up her mind—there was simply no choice between her freedom and her responsibilities to the Triangle, and to Jishou. Being born her father's daughter had always meant one thing: all freedom and pleasure and luxury were small against the backdrop of duty. There was duty...and there was all else, like shadows under the sun.

Sayuri had actually tricked herself into thinking she could do whatever she wanted, so long as it served Jishou and the Triangle. She'd been free to do a lot of things, these past few years, and she'd thought her life would continue that way.

It was a foolish sentiment, in retrospect.

One brief image flashed through her mind: Caera's sprawling vineyards, their low, airy villas; the olives soaked in vinegar, the sweet vermillion wine, suddenly the smell of fresh bread.

A single man—no, _a boy really,_ she recalled with slight fondness—with his licks of brown hair gilded in the warm orange-gold Caeran sun, his similarly chestnut eyes smiling at her with the promise of mischief.

Sayu blinked, and the image was gone.

She let out a breath, feeling her chest unknot itself for the first time since that morning. Her heart still felt heavy with some unknowable thing—she refused to acknowledge it as dread.

It was something else, something more familiar but had stayed remote in recent times.

Sadness.

"You've been gone too long."

She looked back with a smile, pulling some of her hair behind her ear with a hand. It was Kuja, of course; Shiro knew her very well. Already she could feel her throat come loose with an answer: "There is a lot to consider."

There wasn't, not really, but she needed an excuse to hide herself away from the world.

Kuja was sitting on top of his magic carpet—she recognized the thing from her childhood, and _oh_ did she remember how envious she used to be of it—but soon he stepped off, light and graceful like he always was, and with some smooth gesture of his arm the carpet folded itself and he tucked it in his robe.

She was kneeling on top of a large, smooth rock that sat on the cliff's highest point. She moved to the side a bit, to make room for Kuja. He gladly sat beside her.

His expression was easy but contemplative. Sayuri wondered what he thought of the situation.

An idea popped into her head.

"O wise magister," She uttered, "please tell what advice you have for me, what the rukh has in store for me."

Sayu meant every word of what she'd said—Kuja _was_ a magister. A very young one, but he was easily one of the wisest people she knew; even Shiro asked for his advice.

By virtue of being a magister alone, he held the ears of all the most powerful people in the Triangle. Studying in the Magisterium was more than just a magical pilgrimage—it was an experience one would treasure for their lives. She herself had never been there, but she knew it was filled with millennia old accounts and tomes collected from all over the world; spending years of your life in isolation at Ariavat's deserts with nothing but such a great library was _bound_ to affect a magician.

All magisters were knowledgeable of and in flow with the rukh; it was what made their magic so beautiful and instinctive, and made them trusted advisors in each of the countries in the Triangle. They were the persons most familiar with life and the way life manifested itself.

Kuja laughed. "What is there to say? To face the tides of fate the rukh has given you?"

"A second marriage, as if the first had gone so well," Sayuri said with breathless disbelief and resignation, gazing into the setting sun and the sky bleeding a brilliant red. "What a tide to follow."

"I said nothing of following the tide," Her companion spoke up.

True enough, she supposed. She could not help but think of all she would be leaving—she would be giving up a lot of things, to come west and marry Kouen.

As if he'd read her thoughts, Kuja said:

"There is a saying—"

She turned to him. He was smiling to himself, as if he'd remembered something amusing. "—in Jishou that the Magisterium espouses. It's a very old saying apparently, one of the best you've taught me, you know."

His amber eyes were already staring back at her, and in the light of the sunset they looked like burning, molten gold. Sayu furrowed her brow, trying to remember when she'd said such a thing to him, but failing.

He continued: "I grew a cherry blossom tree in Ariavat one day when I returned there—with the help of the court magicians, of course. You'd just gotten engaged. I was about to be sent to the Magisterium for the first time.

"You'd said, 'we have a saying, in Jishou, one that we remember every spring.'"

Her eyes widened when she realized what he'd been alluding to.

Kuja just grinned. "'When the cherry blossoms scatter…no regrets.' That when life goes well—it is a sudden gift, and we must enjoy it as we can, because the cherry blossoms bloom for only so long."

"You were always fascinated by the cherry trees in the capitol," She mused.

"It's why I have the blossom on my staff. Don't think I haven't noticed you eyeing it yesterday."

Sayuri breathed, her throat clenching and refusing to say the words until she forced them out. "Then I suppose this year will be the last time the blossoms bloom. There is no choice left. I will have to marry him, if only to protect Jishou and thus the Triangle's stake in the alliance."

Kuja put his hand over hers. Tender and soft, his lips formed a small smile: "There is always a choice, and the blossoms will bloom again, next spring."

The words were quiet and reassuring, but ultimately she had nothing to say. She'd once promised herself that she would never yield her freedom the way she did, all those years ago, when she entered her first betrothal—yet today she would be breaking the same promise, after keeping it for so long.

Marriage, once again, and to a country more foreign, a man more alien. In a small way it felt like a betrayal to Caera, and to the memory of its former Crown Prince—after all, she'd vowed to look after Caera however way she could as its new Crown Princess, when she took her first wedding vows.

She'd been such a serious, pensive girl back then.

But times were different, and it seemed like the blossoms were scattering once again.

* * *

The announcement came earlier than anyone expected, given that the original agreement had changed so radically—but that was Sayu; quick and efficient, dependable.

There was a minor banquet held inside her father's wing of the keep, but the tone was subdued, and it was a supremely private affair; Sayuri had only attended it for all of five minutes, and she'd spent all of it behind a curtain of state, body entirely obscured as Jishouan betrothal tradition dictated.

Mameha had silently watched as Ren Kouen got down on his knees in front of the silhouette of her sister—he splayed his hands out on the floor and lowered his head to rest on top of his fingers.

It was the first time she'd ever seen him doing such a humble thing.

But Kouen still looked every inch the Imperial Crown Prince he was; he'd worn his billowing black cloak with its metal pauldron, his red and white robes, his sword, his belt with the gold maw—as if to say all these things he greatly valued, he lay them before Sayuri.

And like he would soon be hers, these things would be hers too, when she was his wife.

Mameha could only imagine the stony smooth face of Sayuri looking down on him.

A feast was laid for them, but Mameha wandered into the inner garden, wishing to be alone.

Yet like many things she'd wished for that day—it wasn't to be, and she looked up from her plate of ceremonial confections. The rice cakes prepared for today had originally been colored and shaped like pure white chrysanthemum flowers, her favorite flower, and the bowl of tea served with it would have been full of her favorite blend of black tea.

Of course, to reflect today's changes, Sayuri had had to pick her own motifs for the betrothal feast. The rice cake staring back at her was shaped like a pale-pink, simple, and delicate cherry blossom. The bowl was filled with Ariavatan tea.

When she looked up Koumei was standing at the edge of the very small pavilion in her father's inner gardens. Mameha immediately turned her head away from him. Normally she would be forward in her approach of him, much to her chaperone— _former_ chaperone's chagrin and lecturing—but she saw no use in it now, not when Kouen was officially marrying her sister.

There was a small sigh coming from his direction.

 _Ha-ha,_ she thought, _I want to sigh too._

Why must some things in life be so difficult?

"I…" The older man started. There was that solicitous, careful tone he always used around her; as the thought about it, he probably had to use it all the time, when she was so brazen in their encounters. She would readily seek out his company, talk to him without prompting, and he'd probably found it unladylike and unappealing.

"You don't have to say anything, if it helps." She said. Was she disappointed? She truthfully didn't know.

"No."

Mameha turned her head at that. She nearly jumped when she realized how close Koumei had suddenly gotten, standing less than a foot away from her.

He was so close she could see his other eye peeking from behind the curtain of his messy magenta hair, and she could make out the exquisite metal detailing on his earring. His purplish-red eyes looked more intense and more awake than she'd even seen them.

She blushed at his proximity. He looked away for a moment, as if seemingly embarrassed by his actions as well, but he looked at her again, with resolution in his eyes.

"I want to apologize," He said, "because we— _I_ pulled this out on you, knowing that you expected… _everyone_ expected something else, Princess Mameha."

The younger princess was stunned at that.

Koumei didn't stop, however—"So I apologize. Deeply."

Her heart seized. She hadn't been expecting such an apology, and such a heartfelt one at that—yet still it didn't—

Hearing his words made her choke up, and another realization hit her.

Mameha bit her lip. "That doesn't—that doesn't change the fact you went along with all these weeks of—of—!"

She looked away, saying hotly, "—I was led to believe we were getting along well—but you were just stringing me and my brothers along—"

"No! No, no—" Koumei started shaking his head, and Mameha stopped to stare at him. He looked genuinely rueful, and he was staring at the ground, his hand rubbing the back of his head. "—the truth is I didn't know. I—I was just as shocked as you were today."

"You mean to say," Her eyes went wide, uttering, "that your brother has been planning this without your knowledge the entire time?"

He nodded and his words were sheepish, but he at least stared her in the eye when he said: "Not exactly, but…Kouen—Kouen is, well… _Kouen."_

...

"He sounds," She said with incredulity, "like an asshole."

At the words she'd just spilled, she clapped a hand over her mouth. To her surprise, Koumei just laughed. "He does, when put like that."

Another silence lapsed.

"I—I forgive you." She blurted out.

There were still many things that were left unsaid and unanswered when it came to this surprise proposal, but she was honest with Koumei in this regard—she always had been.

 _He's faultless in this._

Koumei smiled at her. It was a simple smile, one that made her heart stutter because she knew it was a direct byproduct of her own words, and one that she could see so close.

"Thank you," He bowed, "and to be truthful—I think we do get along, Princess Mameha."

She just nodded at that, ignoring the light flush in her cheeks.

* * *

Notes:

Protip: I don't respond to reviews that only say "please update soon," jsyk. So don't leave any more of those. But hey guys! I'll be responding to everyone else that dropped a review last chapter later, but for now have this.

(1) Here's the first glimpse of the dead husband. He won't really be appearing much, since he's, y'know, _dead_. Can anyone guess which ancient civilization I sort of based Caera off of, using the short images I provided in this chap? It's pretty easy, but points to anyone who does get it lol!

(2) It took a lot of restraint to not write a POV for Kuja - but here's Mameha. Mameha really puts a spin on the situation, being a princess herself but having some similar/different expectations to fulfill, and the high bar Sayuri sets for being a good "princess"/public servant.

(3) Kuja is referencing two things, in his cherry blossom speech: firstly the haiku by the poet Issa; secondly, a memorable line from the movie, _Memoirs of a Geisha_.

(4) Other cultural stuff: a "curtain of state" is a curtain that obscures, usually, a woman from onlookers; it's referenced a lot in _The Tale of Genji_ by Murasaki Shikibu, _The Pillow Book_ by Sei Shonagon, and other Heian-era works. The "inner garden" can be taken as like the Jishouan rendering of the Ancient Roman _domus._

(5) I am _very very_ curious as to how you'll react to the miniscule Mameha/Koumei fluff, and how you'll all take it lol. If you're wondering why Koumei might be weird, my justification is he's not his Canon Magi self yet; he's still 4 years getting there, and he's more sheepish and polite, like how he acts around Hakuei, because he regards Sayu and her family very well. He just wants to make a good impression, guise.

Sorry for my really long notes, but anyway; even if I'm not responding tonight, it was super fun to read all your reactions to Kouen's surprise proposal! I'll see you all in the next chapter, where we'll be leaving Jishou - stay tuned my friends, and if you've the time, please tell me how this chapter was. G'night!


	9. Snake in the Lion's Den

**Recommendation:** hey guys! I have a friend who's got another great magi OC-fic in the works; it's called _Appetence_ by fianna2452 - if you're reading _Pale Fire_ this fic might interest you too! It's definitely worth a follow if you're into Sinbad, worldbuilding, and royalty, and it's well-written as well; please check it out if you've the time!

* * *

 **9**

 _Snake in the Lion's Den_

The next day brought a few more uncomfortable revelations.

Sayu had gotten up relatively early—there were many pre-wedding customs in Jishou that involved meticulous planning in her day-to-day routine; being a member of the royal family, she could not just ignore them. If anything, she'd stuck to them religiously, in her first days as a young, fourteen year old bride.

Now, she was just tired. There were how many months between her betrothal and her wedding, next spring; there was much to do. Now, she preferred to do her own thing, as long as it kept—however barely—within the rules of propriety.

There was a certain kind of melancholy attached to her actions as she brushed her hair. For five years she'd worn her hair down, with little to no ornamentation—the court had dubbed it 'the widow's hair' for her status as a widow, and how it exemplified a 'widow's humility'; not soon after, the practice had spread itself like some unavoidable plague she had to hear about every time she sat down to listen to court gossip.

 _Even the widows of the most lowly court officials wear their hair down these days, my Princess,_ Fuu had once told her with a laugh.

Sayu hadn't known what to say. In Caera, she'd always worn her hair up, with painstakingly prepared curls and gold wreaths worn like a diadem; when she returned to Jishou after her first marriage, she'd simply been too heartbroken to put so much effort into her hair and be reminded of what once was, and thus settled by plainly letting her hair down.

She now handed her brush to Fuu, who began to twist and shape her silver hair into a modified version of the traditional betrothed's hairstyle. The original style was made to suit young girls transitioning into adulthood, as their first marriage would imply; Sayu had already made the transition, and the look would undoubtedly be silly on _her,_ a once-married woman of twenty-three.

So Fuu roped her hair into something simpler, more elegant than the original style called for; nothing too tall and ostentatious, but tasteful and regal. She first shaped her hair into something akin to a cross, before shaping her remaining hair into two buns behind each ear, to balance the look.

When she was finished, Fuu took a step back to gaze at her work and said, "Princess, I think you ought to think about getting a wig."

Sayuri patted her hair in amazement, feeling how tight the strands had been pulled and contorted. She patted the top of the cross, which would undoubtedly be the perfect place for some metal ornament to sit. She twisted her head left and right, testing the weight of the new hairstyle, wincing a bit at the strain her scalp felt. "I'll be gone for most of the betrothal, but I think you're right."

She didn't want to be bald by the time she actually married. Jishouan betrothals were usually long and a wrought out affair, and brides were expected to wear the same hairstyle until the day of their wedding; if a bride wasn't careful, the style could eventually cause bold spots at the top of the head, where the hairstyle placed the most strain.

And even if she wore a different, more relaxed version of the style—and even if she didn't at all intend to wear her hair as such for the rest of her betrothal, _especially when I'm traveling after this whole thing,_ she remembered—she didn't want to take risks. Even Sayu placed some amount of pride in the Jie family's iconic silver hair. "I do wonder how difficult it'd be to find a wig for us, though. Perhaps when I return to the capital, they'll have something prepared for me."

Fuu was flitting between her vanity, where Sayu sat, and the rest of her room; the attendant laughed as she went away and returned with several small chests that she spread before Sayuri. "It's not going to be very hard. I'm sure they'll think of something."

Try as Fuu might hide it Sayu knew she was having fun being able to do something to her hair—it had grown long over the five years she'd left it uncut and unadorned. The princess was at least happy for that, in light of recent events.

Sayu looked at the chests. They were filled with jewels and chains and hair sticks tipped with precious metals; most of them were wrought in metal, encrusted with precious stones—of course, she had a sizeable amount of gold jewelry from Caera, whose stones glittered and winked at her with rubies and sapphires and emeralds. These were vibrant jewels she decided not to wear; instead she went for something closer to home, sticking to her silver hair ornaments encrusted with pale jades and smooth pastel stones.

When that was over with, she was dressed; again, tradition dictated she wear heavy layers, but she chose to keep her style light and mobile—she wore one splendid white under robe with sky blue embroidering, next she wore a lilac-colored robe, made of very fine crepe silk; it featured nothing but three long cranes standing beside a periwinkle stream running along the padded hem. All throughout the robe, it was painted with extensive silver highlights; the feathers of the cranes, the rise and tide of the stream, the eye and bill of each bird.

Her wide and heavy sash of silver silk brocade was tied in a simple knot, for over this she wore one last layer; her overcoat, which she kept to a pale cherry blossom pink, and bore five of the Jie family's crests—two near her lapels, two on the backs of her sleeves, one sitting above the base of her neck.

These seemed like fitting colors, now that summer was drawing to a close and today would be the last day to wear such light and buoyant shades; armed with a fan she tucked into her sash, Sayuri made her way to her first engagement of the day as Ren Kouen's intended.

* * *

Kuja was, to say the least, speechless.

There already was a room set up for her, with a curtain separating her from whoever guests she would be receiving; while she sat on a raised platform, the curtain hung a few inches above the platform floor, so the only thing truly visible to a person before it would be the sleeves and the robe of the betrothed sitting. She'd heard some noblemen call it tantalizing—like the only glimpse of a newly-blossomed woman, when all the rest was covered—and apparently the idea that such a vulnerable beauty would be withheld from them until the day this new woman would be wed to another man was enough to drive them mad.

But she had no patience for such things; she'd gone barefaced before the court countless times, and the pretense of her 'purity' being kept by this curtain was just that: pretense.

Some attendant had announced: _Magister Alihaddra Kujahabar Salman, the First Prince of Ariavat,_ and Sayuri had to roll her eyes at the pomp and pageantry.

Sitting as she was before the curtain, her vision was just as obscured as her observer. The curtain was made of panels of crepe silk, however, so she was free to accept things handed to her by parting it with her sleeve.

The gauzy sight of Kuja entered her room. His figure looked confused as to where she was, because he was looking around her room.

 _He probably thinks its empty,_ she stifled a chuckle.

"Kuja," she called with a slight laugh from behind her curtain.

His head snapped towards her direction. "Oh, there you are." He said sheepishly, coming near her platform.

"Careful now," Sayuri sighed, "sit only as close as you dare."

She looked around the room. "Leave us," she said to the few attendants lingering. She had no chaperone either, but Fuu would do, for propriety's sake. Kuja watched the people leave, before sitting down a few feet away from her with what she thought as a raised brow.

Sayuri couldn't be sure. When Fuu slid the doors closed, Sayu gathered her sleeves and scooted forward to the edge of the platform, parting her curtain around her elaborate hairstyle and poking her head out.

And that was where her friend was stunned: he sat back with his widened amber eyes, speechless for a few moments.

"Sa…Sayuri," He said with a laugh at last, and she bit her lip at his reaction.

She could feel a slight flush rising to her cheeks as he continued to take in the changes in her appearance. She bobbed her head a bit, making the metal in her hair ornaments jingle merrily. "Too much?"

He vigorously shook his head, and it made the lush black curls crowning his head bob back and forth as well. "Not—not at all."

This was the first time she'd seen him so wordless. She chuckled and stood, joining him on the straw mats and sitting before him. It revealed the full extent of her preparations that morning, and she ostentatiously smoothed her robes in front of him. "What do you think?"

He was still looking at her with a growing smile, wonder and delight dancing in his amber irises. "This is the first time I've ever seen you like this," He said as he crossed his arms, lifting a hand to tap his chin with his ringed fingers. "It's quite something else, let me tell you."

She thought about that. It was certainly true; Kuja had been sent to the Magisterium just before she'd gotten engaged the first time. And after that, they hadn't seen each other until her marriage was over.

Sayu nodded, unexpectedly reminded of why she was dressed as such. "Well, Ren Kouen's proposal is something else."

"That reminds me," Here he produced something from behind his back, something she'd failed to see when he first came in. It was a box; a silver box, wrought with curling, intricate motifs of jasmine flowers and swallows. It was more flat than it was tall; Kuja presented it with a secretive smile, and the morning light glinted from the rubies on his fingers down to the silver of his treasure. "From my sister. When news of your engagement broke, my sister had it sent."

The princess fought to stifle her surprise. "That was only yesterday!"

Her friend chuckled as he slowly opened the box, "Magic, Sayu. One of the Magisterium's latest projects; the Ariavatan royalty has command of it for now, though usually my sister uses it for emergencies only. Yesterday was suitable."

"I can't imagine…" She drifted off as the box opened to reveal an identical set of two gold bracelets; she looked at Kuja, almost whispering, "…may I?"

"Go ahead," he smiled, "they're yours."

"Mine?" She breathed, holding one of the bracelets up delicately. It was heavy and thick, as wide as her pinky; the inner side was covered with more floral designs—lotus, jasmine, chrysanthemums—of pink enamel; the outer side sported uncut diamonds whose ends were joined together by twin snakes. "It's beautiful."

"I thought you'd like it."

She looked at him, disbelief written all over her face. "I can't accept this. It's—it's too valuable."

"Well, it's already here, Sayuri. Who am I supposed to give it to?"

 _My sister,_ her mind immediately replied. "What about—everyone thought Mameha was going to get married. This must be her present, not mine."

Kuja laughed, shaking his head. "That's crude, Sayuri. I do have a present for her, but this is something else entirely. It's from my sister; you know how she's fond of you."

"Oh." Sayu said. She looked at him, gripping the bracelet in her hand. "Well—I'll tell her how much I love it, and how grateful I am to her, we _are_ leaving for Ariavat later, I mean…"

Unexpectedly, he sighed: he took her hand in his, patting it. "About that. I came to say goodbye, early."

"What?" She stared at him, dumbfounded. She put her other hand down, cradling the bracelet in her lap. "Early? You can't mean you're leaving. We're leaving together."

"That's the point," Her friend said. Kuja looked troubled for a moment, but then he looked her in the eyes and said unflinchingly, "I've been called back. When your gift arrived last night, the magisters had a message for me too. Something of great importance has come up. I need to leave this morning for the Ethersand."

That was the desert the Magisterium was located in; Sayu's heart sank to her stomach. She'd been increasingly looking forward to spending the next few weeks—she'd dared even think _months_ —with him, after the disaster that had come out of the Kou-Jishou negotiations. She tried, "Can't we take the same boat, at the very least? Delay your trip by just a few hours?"

"I'm sorry," Kuja said, and he drew close, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. He took one deep breath before smiling again, for her.

Sayu let her hopes die right then; once Kuja looked at peace with something, there was no changing his mind, no matter what anyone would say—like every magister, he had the uncanny ability to detach himself so admirably, whenever the situation called for it.

She was probably being foolish, because the Magisterium's matters were nothing she would ever allow herself to get in the way of normally. She was probably being irrational, too emotional after the letdowns and the realizations her new betrothal had brought her.

His thumb, which bore the ring of a lion with a great emerald in its jaw, brushed her cheek. It rose to where it hovered over the corner of her eye, as if ready to brush away a tear or two.

"I'll be back for your sending away party," He murmured, "I'll bring you a wedding present, this time. I promise."

Only then did she realize he'd been wearing the same clothes he wore to the banquet, the night he arrived in Tohouku; his long camel-colored coat, embroidered with ebony swallows and vines twisting around each other in endless circles; his boots, worn with use and still carrying a light dusting of sand from the desert.

Sayuri blinked, gazing into the eyes of her oldest friend. "You don't need to promise," She said, a bit mournfully. "You always keep your word."

He just chuckled. He had this exquisite tint to his dark, smooth umber skin—ochre, he once said jokingly. She would miss it, along with his smiles, his voice, his curly hair, his long fingers with the rings.

When he lifted his cheeks to grin at her, Sayu felt her brows pull together and her forehead wrinkling, unable to reconcile herself to the fact that he was leaving, again.

"Princess," Fuu called from the doors.

They both looked up; Kuja with a genial expression, Sayu with the complete opposite. Fuu nodded towards outside. "It's Ambassador Korechika."

Kuja looked at her, and both of his eyebrows had shot up to his hairline inquisitively. He gingerly plucked the bracelet from her hand, placing it inside the silver box and setting the thing aside. "Kyouya?"

Sayu stood up slowly, smoothing her robes.

They must've tarried for too long.

"It's not what you think, I assure you."

"In that case," Kuja stood as well.

One last time, his hand reached for hers and he bowed deeply over it. His forehead first touched her knuckles in a gesture of respect, before his lips softly followed in a gesture of admiration.

He straightened, and he clasped his hands behind him. He tilted his head, another small smile in place for her. "I'll be going, now."

Sayuri smiled. She suspected it had a tinge of sadness to it. "Goodbye, Kuja."

* * *

The rooms Sayuri Jie now used were in the King's private wing—they also opened on both sides, but that afternoon only the side facing the coast had been thrown open, and the low-hanging sun washed everything in a soft orange glow.

There was a platform in the room, which raised it a foot from the floor; from there another curtain hung, and the gossamer silk that hung a few inches short of the platform allowed him to first glimpse Sayuri's lilac and pink robes.

He stepped into the room, which was devoid of people save for one attendant. Sayuri's personal attendant, he remembered, the one who followed her most of everywhere. She sat at the base of the platform, to the side, but she bowed when he entered.

Kouen sat in the center of the room, and instantly his eyes caught the figure sitting behind the curtain, shadowed and whose true form was withheld from his sight, even in the warm orange light.

For the second time, Kouen sat back on his haunches, splayed his fingers in front of him, and lowered his head before the silhouette of his intended.

When he rose, he was unexpectedly stilled by the outline of Sayuri Jie—it was almost imposing, and having nothing else to do he read the contours of her head; it obviously bore the shapes of several hair ornaments, and he continued reading the soft slopes of her shoulders, the rise and fall of her billowing sleeves.

There was a voice that spoke to him: "Prince Kouen," she called. The voice was quiet, subdued, but he recognized the firmness in it, "I bid you a safe return to Rakushou."

"Thank you," he replied to the formality without pause. Outside and toward the inner corridor, where his attendant similarly stood, he gestured. The man came inside with his head bowed, wordlessly setting down a chest before Kouen and leaving.

Behind Kouen, another set of Kou attendants entered and left several chests.

"Princess," the Crown Prince of Kou bowed over his hands once again, in Jishouan custom. As he pressed his forehead on his fingers, he said, "Please accept these gifts, in celebration of our betrothal."

There was a short moment of silence, before Sayuri spoke again. "No, Fuu. Allow me."

There was the rustling of fabric, the sound of quiet feet padding to and fro before him. Not before long, her voice spoke again: "Please, raise your head, Prince Kouen."

And he did. Sayuri had pulled the curtain back, had tied each side to hooks in the walls.

The parted silk allowed him the first sight of the First Princess of Jishou he'd gotten since three nights ago, when they spoke alone on the beach.

Her long silver hair had been swept into a large topknot, with hair twisted into two buns on each side of her ears; what was even more surprising than her suddenly complex hairstyle were the glistening metal ornaments arranged on it. A dark silver comb sat in the middle of her topknot, emblazoned with birds and adorned with several flowers of bright blues, pinks and greens set on a sprawling silver branch; a delicate cloth peony topped this comb, covering most of the hair gathered there. By her hairline, two dark silver pins shaped like cranes sat near her temples, with tiny cloth cherry blossoms trailing the cranes across her scalp—on the buns behind her ears, another two cranes mid-flight were pinned in place, each sporting silver chains in their mouths whose jade ends dangled near her neck.

Sayuri's own face was unadorned save for the mild smile she pointed at him. Her slender neck gave way to two intricately sewn collars, which then gave way to her under robe and robe.

"I must thank Kou," She started, glancing at the small chest that lay before her, "for its kindness." She acknowledged her break in decorum by bowing deeply, not lowering her head to the floor but nonetheless bowing. "But _you_ I also want to thank, by accepting your gifts personally, without the curtain."

Kouen watched her. He had to look up to her, because she sat on her platform; she held her chin high, but her eyes were looking down at her sleeves, almost as if they were hesitant to look at him.

Then her eyes swerved up without stopping, locking with his.

Her eyes almost matched the jade dangling by her neck, or the pale flowers on her comb, or the lilac of her robe, but at that instant to him they seemed like smooth and deep, hard stone; stone that was old and made of countless layers piled up against each other, impenetrable.

She blinked and the hardness was gone. Sayuri was gazing at something else now, the small box. He reached for it, opening it without preamble and standing.

There were several things that were a part of the traditional Kou groom's pre-wedding gifts to his bride, most of which were contained in the chests behind him; only the smallest, most valuable things were in the chest before him, and he took this in his hands before sitting on the platform with her.

They were eye to eye now. She tilted her head at him, a slight hitch in her breath and her eyebrow, as if questioning his motives.

He shot her words back at her, "I want to give this to you, personally."

The quick look she sent her single attendant betrayed her nervousness, as if she were checking to see if she'd been left alone with him.

Her lips pursed uncomfortably. Was she uneasy with how close he was?

"As you wish."

Kouen set down the ebony chest, reaching in for his gifts to her.

Her ears, neck and fingers were unadorned right then and it would soon change:

Without her fingertips brushing against his skin, she took from his palms the gold earrings with wide eyes; they'd been long and heavy in his hands, but she easily wore the jewelry without a single thought.

Next, she draped over her neck the collar of gold he presented her—but he stopped her when she reached for the ring.

"Let me," He said.

There was one ring only; one ring to be worn on the ring finger of her left hand, one ring to be joined with another ring when they would be married next spring.

It was a gold ring—and like the rest of the jewelry, it did not bear Kou's standard motifs; no, they bore _his_ motifs. His ring bore a noble lion, with its gaping maw carrying a large, blood-red ruby.

Sayuri's pale green eyes looked at him once again, as if struck by it. She silently held out her left hand, its white knuckles barely visible from the lilac sleeve that swallowed her arm.

He took her hand in his. Her palm was delicate, but unexpectedly cool—without thinking, he'd felt through the ridges and lines of her fingers, unsurprised when he found no calluses or any other sort of blemish; Sayuri looked like she'd never held a bow in her life, much less a sword.

Kouen singled out her ring finger, sliding on his ring. It was a little big, but that was nothing that couldn't be fixed later; when she attempted to pull her hand back, he stopped her once again by holding onto her fingers.

"Lastly," He said, gazing into her eyes. He reached for the ebony chest again, bringing back gold twin bracelets. Slowly, deliberately—knowing he was doing something Koumei would've disapproved of—he lifted her sleeve, to expose her wrist.

Something else already resided there. Another gold bracelet; thicker than his, obviously more valuable, with the way it glittered with uncut diamonds.

Looking at the bracelet for a moment, he realized he recognized it. The coiling snakes were hard to miss.

Sayuri was quick to draw her hand back in this instant; she averted her eyes. "It's a wedding present," she said, as if it explained anything, "from Ariavat."

 _The magister,_ he was reminded. All those rings he wore. "It makes no difference."

She bit her lip at that, seemingly unsure of what to make of his statement. She looked down, before baring both her wrists to him; quietly, she muttered: "There's two. Take them off, if you want."

He heard her nearly breathless amendment of _it makes no difference either._

Kouen examined her. She looked resigned, her eyes half-lidded and gazing at nothing in particular.

His memory brought up another vision of her: her in her midnight blue robes, both of them alone on the beach, her cup of wine and her green eyes shimmering in the moonlight, her lips pulled in a smirk as she said, _I was supposed to meet_ him, _not you, sorry._

It seemed like two different people. He said nothing else as he removed her bracelets for her, before replacing them with his own.

When his thumb brushed over her knuckles half-accidentally, she started and looked at him with surprise.

Kouen stood from the platform. He made his way for the doors. "I will be leaving now,"

"I…" The princess trailed from inside the room. "…I wish you well on your endeavors, Prince Kouen."

When he looked back, she was standing in the middle of the room, her hands hidden in her sleeves. Behind her the afternoon sun burned, and it almost looked to him as if she was silhouetted again by a silk curtain.

Yet even in the shadow of the sun he could see the tall cranes wading in the blue stream along the hem of her robe, could see the crests of her royal family on her coat's lapels, could see the glimmer of light glancing off the silver cranes at her temples.

Amongst the imagery he absently wondered if she _truly_ did wish him well on his endeavors. With his actions yesterday they would both be embarking on a new endeavor.

 _Cranes,_ he remembered, _symbolize longevity._

"And you as well, Princess," He replied without thought. "Expect a second present, for our wedding."

* * *

She was on a ship to Ariavat the next day. Shiro had left soon after the Kou delegation did; the rest of her family would stay in Tohouku for a little while longer. Yuki was not expected in the Magisterium yet, so he stayed with their parents.

The delay in her journey was caused by her unexpected betrothal; several palanquins and other veiled devices were needed for the journey, since she needed to obscure herself from all men aside from family and—as the day before played out—Kuja and Kouen.

She'd had to send a missive to Koumei as well; she'd forgotten to send him a list of suitable officials for their trade ambassador post, though she did include in the missive the fact that she'd discussed a similar list with Korechika already. Sayu was supposed to discuss the matter with Kouen, that meeting before he left; she'd gotten sidetracked by the gifts he presented her, however.

That afternoon, she remembered, she'd expected dragons—as Kou's motifs went, but Kouen had given her lions; so many lions, hanging on her ears, lounging on her collar bones, devouring a ruby on her finger, stretching on her wrists.

Shiro had twisted his lips in disdain when he saw her, as he was packing for his journey. "Dear me," He said. "Where are the bracelets Kuja gave you? Wear those, wear his stuff. Get rid of the Kou jewelry."

She'd corrected him, saying the gift was from Kuja's sister; he shrugged. "He practically picked them out. But you really need to see those earrings of yours, sister."

That night she'd looked in the mirror, startled by the reflection of Kouen's gold lions and their pointed teeth all but glaring at the silver of her own cranes.

* * *

"My fool brother," The Queen of Ariavat took Sayu's face in her palms and crooned, "my fool brother, always at the Ethersand, leaving you to those strange Kou men, now look at what they've done to you."

"Your Majesty," Sayu laughed. "Please. They're just my betrothal gifts."

The truth was she felt uneasy in them, forever hyperaware of the fact that these were Kouen's possessions, and she was wearing them. She'd compromised with propriety, while abroad; she needed to see many people, many of them men, and a curtain of state was not always available—so she would always wear Kouen's jewels and her hair in some semi-elaborate style, if only to signify the fact that she was intended for someone else already.

"They're not! They're not just betrothal gifts, Sayuri," She said, shaking her head. She twisted away from Sayu, beckoning her to follow. With every step the Queen took, her braid swung, her hips swayed, her foot glided off the tiled floor of the Ariavatan capital palace with a light chime. All over she bore gold jewelry, from anklets to belts to braid-covers, all made at her command, all made for her use only. "They're a symbol of that Ren Kouen's ownership of you!"

The older woman led her to the very top of the palace, where a hollowed out dome made of ivory-white bricks hung above them; she could see the city, and farther from that, the _jungle_ , from archways more than a hundred feet above the ground. The Queen was lazing on the carpet behind her, sticking in her mouth some Jishouan treat Sayu had brought her.

"Oh, relax, Sayuri," Yerim Shajar Salman popped another rice cake into her mouth. "Ariavat is already well aware of the Magisterium and Kou's agreement. Didn't you say there were no changes to the terms? We all know you're only here to see me. Did you like my gift? I see you're wearing it with those lions on your wrists, they must be rather heavy."

"Now tell me," She sat crossed legged, twisting and piling one foot after another, and Sayuri struggled to follow the action. "What's this new husband-to-be of yours like? Is my fool brother any more handsome? Tell me Kuja's more handsome; that would restore my faith in him a little bit."

Sayuri twisted her sleeve, trying to avoid all thoughts of Kouen. She was unofficially on vacation; she would rather not think of him. "Ah…let me see. Kuja—" Her forehead wrinkled, furrowing her brows, "—he's more chivalrous."

"What dears these Kou men are," The Queen mocked, "you don't even have anything to say about them. I suppose I should thank you for the compliment to my foolishly foolish brother, albeit."

"You're welcome. And it's for the better that I don't say anything, believe me," Sayu sighed, giving up on sitting cross-legged like the queen and instead choosing to lie back. She carefully positioned her hair and jewelry as she lay down. "Perhaps you'll get to meet them one day. You'll see how slippery they are."

"Slippery as eels, I see. Not that I expected anything less of a scheming empire's princes. Your brothers, however," Yerim continued, "how are they? The little runt still trying to catch up to Kujahabar? Fool's errand, that one, everyone knows my brother's one in a million, if not a fool. Nobuyuki's handsome though. Fun to tease, too."

Sayu joked, "You ought to marry him."

The Queen's answer was nonchalant. "Maybe I will. He's got prized blood; I'll have to catch him before he decides to be a magister, unlike my foolish brother. It's plenty of time."

"Shiro's doing well, he's handling the military for now," Sayuri added. "Father's proud."

"Uncle Mameyoshi's proud of anyone who does their best, he's soft like that," Yerim commented absently.

 _Not truly,_ Sayu winced but said nothing. She gazed up at the brick dome, which had been painted with sprawling vines and leaves that twisted into the dome's archways. Jet black swallows were painted all throughout, accompanied by swarms of tiny gold birds she knew to be the rukh.

It reminded her of Kuja's favorite camel-colored jacket.

The princess closed her eyes, deciding to nod off.

* * *

The next leg of her journey was tenser at first, but eventually it relented and gave into 'relaxation' as well, just like she'd done in Ariavat; Caera was welcoming, as it always had been, and the officials and tradesmen she met were all surprised when they found out she was engaged again.

Perhaps this was the only sign she needed to see that her old life had ended already: though sad and a bit regretful, everyone she met only wished her good passage into the next stage of her life. The senators all unexpectedly threw parties for her every week, as if they were their way of expressing their fond farewells, knowing that she would not be returning to Caera in a long while, possibly forever.

Whenever she returned to the villa the Jishouan diplomatic commission owned, gifts would be waiting for her at the entryway; a lot of them were frugal, practical gifts that she could use, while staying in Caera—wheat, olive oil, wine. The sight of the gifts alternately stressed and saddened her, because they were only tangible reminders of what was awaiting her next spring, and these gifts were her sending off.

Some of the gifts, most of which were from her old friends, back when she was still Caera's Crown Princess, were lavish things that were expected to last forever; a beautiful set of ceramic vases, hand-painted with scenes from her reign as Crown Princess, a pair of earrings studded with precious gems, a beechnut pendant, an armband with delicately chased leaves and berries, all of this as if to say, _you may not be with us, but we will always be with you._

It had eventually gotten to be too much. One day she sat outside the villa, admiring the view from the terraced gardens, gazing distantly into the Caeran capital a few miles away. She'd unwittingly gotten drop-dead drunk from the stress the night before, and was nursing herself with the local remedy for a hangover.

 _If only Kuja was here,_ she silently complained. _He always helps with the hangovers._

She glanced down at the bottom floor of the villa, below the garden, where the entrance was. It was partially open to her view because the entryway was open-air, its roof held up by columns.

A head popped out from one behind the columns. Sayu waved at the familiar intruder.

She didn't look up as he arrived on the terrace. "Good morning," she muttered into her goblet. "Fancy seeing you here, I thought the desert had swallowed you up."

The man smiled, fixing his tunic. He was one of the Caeran magisters, and a relatively new one at that; he'd only earned his title a month or two ago.

They were friends of course, otherwise she'd have thrown him out already. Kuja had referred him to her when he returned from the Magisterium to Caera, ready to fulfill his magisterial duties.

Today was also the first sight she'd seen of him since her arrival in Caera, but her head was throbbing too much to be paying a lot of attention to pleasantries.

"Good morning, Princess," He said smilingly.

Sayu cringed.

"I have something for you."

She looked up at that. He held two bundles in his hands, both of which were wrapped in many layers of cloth. She thanked him quietly, before taking the articles into her own hands.

"I was of the impression Magister Salman was going with you, when you returned here."

"Magister Salman has pressing business with top-tier," Sayu said distractedly, examining the bundles. One was a long bundle, the other was small and flat—the second one she already knew to be a book, without a second examination.

She had the slightest feeling she already knew what the longer bundle was, underneath all the cloth, but couldn't for the life of her understand _why_ she would be receiving such a thing.

She started loosening the string that held the cloth together on the longer bundle. "He couldn't spare the time. Didn't he tell you?"

"He told me to ask you," he shrugged, "and he told me to bring this to you. It's from Jishou, milady."

Was it some prank Shiro was playing on her? Sayu sat back for a moment, cradling her forehead with a perplexed expression. Her headache had seemingly taken a break from tormenting her, instead letting this riddle occupy her.

She laid the long bundle on her lap, setting down the book-bundle and unwrapping the first layer of cloth from the long one. It was a light linen, Caeran. Probably her friend's, so she handed it to him when she stripped it from the bundle.

The next layer was another light layer of airy cotton; when she lifted it to her nose, a note tumbled out; she took the note in one hand, holding the cloth in the other.

She recognized the smell. It smelled like dust and incense, like Kuja. She read the note, which was written in her friend's long and rolling print:

 _Shiro sent it to me, it was faster that way._

 _It's lovely. I hope you'll use them._

Both _of them._

 _Until next spring,_

 _ **K**_

Sayu put the note down, tucking the cloth in her girdle. She unwrapped the last, thickest cloth layer, the one whose origins she only knew by the gold lions and dragons embroidered into the maroon brocade silk.

Already she had a bad feeling as she lifted the last piece of cloth to reveal a long box of lacquered burgundy wood, edged in silver. She lifted the lid, pulling apart the rice paper inside to reveal a magnificent straight sword in its scabbard.

 _Expect a second present, for our wedding,_ Kouen had said to her.

Shocked beyond words, her eyes spotted another note, this time sealed with wax to signify it hadn't been opened, tucked into the side of the box. Even more of a surprise, it was Koumei's writing—not Kouen's, as she'd truly expected—that greeted her when she pulled the note apart:

 _Sayuri,_

She bit her lip at his choice of opening, wanting to smile but ultimately deciding not to.

 _It is our deepest wish that you might accept this present from us. Perhaps it will not arrive in a timely fashion, but I can only hope it will. Nobushiro ensures me that he will do all he can to make sure it will._

 _I have thought long and hard on my gift to you. There is a scroll treasured by many of my family in Kou; I had it copied and bound into a book for your reading. You once told me how fond you were of history, it is my desire that you might find this a scintillating read._

Sayuri grinned then glanced at the book-bundle by her sandaled feet. She decided she would send a missive of thanks to Koumei later—once she figured it out with the senators how to send a missive directly to Kou, or discounting that, how to send a missive to Kou through the neighboring countries in the Triangle.

She suspected she would only end up relying on Shiro again, however. Or her father. They both would know the right people.

 _My brother sends his deepest regards, knowing you will be busy in Caera. It is currently unsafe for him to communicate from the frontlines of the Western Army, but please trust me when I say I know how En thinks._

 _He had it commissioned the moment we returned from Jishou, before he set out for the next war campaign. He would want you to have it for this occasion._

 _Happy birthday, Sayu._

 _Your friend,_

 _Ren Koumei_

 _Second Imperial Prince of Kou_

 _P.S:_

 _In Kou, the pine, the bamboo and the plum blossom are 'the three friends.' They flourish even under the harshest of conditions, and are symbols of longevity and perseverance._

She looked at the sword in her lap again. Not the second wedding gift she'd been expecting, then.

She wordlessly handed the note to her friend, standing up and grabbing the sword and scabbard from its place in the box.

Just the scabbard was beautiful by itself; it was made from polished and lacquered dark wood, with four decorative silver mounts—haltingly, she unsheathed the sword and held it up in the light.

Even her friend let out a breath of awe.

The hilt was wrought in exquisite silver, in the shape of the top half of a lion's maw—where the lower jaw should've been, the blade was in place; it was made of light-colored steel, and when she shifted her grip, her eyes caught the light glinting off the blade differently, and she realized it was a pale grayish-green.

 _Like my eyes?_ She wondered silently.

There were more lions running along the base of the blade, near the hilt, where they stood in two columns of four on both faces; the lions were greener in color, almost jade-like.

"A sword and a book, for a birthday present," Her friend remarked, whistling.

Sayuri was still in shock. What did Kouen mean by sending her a sword for her twenty-fourth birthday? What was he expecting?

She glanced below the hilt and the comfortable leather grip, where the pommel was. It was another growling lion's head, but a metal ornament hung from its open mouth, strung to the inside.

Upon closer observation, it was a flat, lightweight silver ornament—engraved on both sides were identical renderings of a sprig of pine, plum blossoms, and bamboo, intertwined.

She silently sheathed her new sword, placing it back in the box, covering it with rice paper, replacing its lid. Was it an oblique reference to their imminent marriage?

 _He was certainly looking at me that day if it is,_ Sayu thought. That day she'd said goodbye to him, she'd worn her cranes—for longevity, in Jishouan culture, and because it was one of the more auspicious images to be wearing during the betrothal period.

The decision to wear cranes that day had been simple; she'd recognized early on that despite her overall reluctance in wedding him, she had no desire for it to be…as short as her first one.

She would never.

 _Perhaps he understood what it meant._

But she truly hadn't expected him to care about or remember what she'd worn.

Or perhaps he simply hadn't understood, and this was all coincidence, a part of some twisted Kou ritual.

…It wasn't even her birthday yet. It would still be in two weeks; at least Koumei got his wish that the gift arrived on time.

Still—"A sword," Sayu muttered. She gathered her gifts, notes, and goblet in her arms. She nodded at her friend, wordlessly bidding him to come inside with her.

She uneasily set down the box carrying her sword on an end table.

 _He will not make a war princess out of me, long as our marriage may be._

The princess felt her headache return in full force, and she regretfully set down the book-bundle she'd been planning to unwrap and peruse through. Her jewelry and hairstyle felt heavier than ever, and she supposed it was the perfect time to have a cup of tea with her friend.

* * *

Notes:

Surprise! It's me again. I posted early, since this is the last chapter before we go into Kou and meet more canon characters.

(1) Cranes symbolize longevity in both Japanese and Chinese culture; longevity, imo, is a good thing to wish for in a marriage usually. What Kouen means by _perseverance_ and the sword of all things, I would gladly like to hear from you guys. Even Sayu is only guessing, lol.

(2) If today's visuals for the hairstyling and jewelry are confusing, fear not! I've written a blog post with pictures on it on the livejournal, they're design notes + a slight discussion of today's chapter so if you want, there's a link in my profile.

(3) Last chapter's remarks were super fun to read; I'll be responding to your reviews, not sure when since I'm on a really tight schedule, but I will! It's very nice to know people enjoyed the Mameha POV I unveiled, and people enjoy Kuja. I adore anyone that enjoys him ahaha.

Anyway; thanks to everyone that's read thus far! Check out _Appetence_ in the archive on my recommendation if you'd like, as always I am ever grateful for any comments you'd leave me.


	10. She Who Increaseth Her Knowledge

**10**

 _She Who Increaseth Her Knowledge_

"The blossoming of the trees in spring is only the most beautiful to one who has watched them wither in winter."

Mameyoshi threw a glance over his shoulder, to see if his audience was listening. He need not have bothered, though: Alihaddra always listened.

The prince and magister was seated, unfurling scrolls over a low table in his private wing of the summer palace. The King smiled at the young man's furrowed brow, barely recalling the last time he had seen Ali so pensive. Most of the court was accustomed to Ali's light, meandering smiles, his easy words spoken with a lilting Ariavatan accent.

He and his children had known him since Ali was a child however, a mercurial child with a patience that burned through faster than paper. And he had always been the thoughtful kind of child; now he had grown into a thoughtful young man. He'd grown to be the wisest of them all, wiser than Nobushiro, than Sayuri, than all his other children, and had made himself just as wise as a King like Mameyoshi.

 _The Magisterium,_ the idle thought came to him, _I ought to visit again sometime._

And Ali would only continue to grow; the Magisterium never chose wrong, after all. It was a blessing that he and his family could always rely on Ali's honest counsel.

Turning back, he was again welcomed by the vision of his inner garden in full spring bloom. A cherry tree had been planted in the middle of the enclosure, and the greenery all around was lightly dusted with the first petals of spring. A lone figure sat undisturbed beneath the cherry tree, her brush silently gliding over her canvas.

Mameyoshi appreciated this scene for only a moment longer, drinking in the sight of his fifth child enjoying the first bloom of the season in the relative silence and peace of his private wing. Undoubtedly the cherry trees in the capital were more numerous and well-tended than the single tree he had planted in his garden, but Nobuhime had simply given him a rare smile, insisting that she was honored to be one of the few people—in accordance to wedding tradition—seeing Sayuri off.

He sighed.

He turned on his heel and approached where Ali sat with a scroll in his hands.

Upon noticing his approach, the young man looked up with a grin: "Understanding of the cyclical nature of life begets understanding of the fleetingness of sorrow. It's a lesson I know well enough, uncle."

 _Uncle._ A title he only reserved for when they were in private, though _father_ would've worked just as well, even in public. It was a shame that Mameyoshi's other two sons weren't there, forever called away by their own separate responsibilities.

"A pity many are bereft of the wisdom you possess, Alihaddra." The King said, sitting down and moving to pour both of them cups of some warm tea. "Even the smartest and the strongest of us need help in understanding their troubles will not last forever."

Ali's brow lifted. He set down the scroll he was reading and—for a second the King watched him hesitate, before his amber eyes flit up from the spot they'd fixated on the scroll, meeting Mameyoshi's stare head-on.

Absent-minded words aside, they were both on the same page, having wandered down the same winding line of thought all morning. Mameyoshi need not waste his breath, when it came to Alihaddra—they were both acutely aware that Sayuri would be arriving at the docks, returning from her retreat in the Triangle. In a handful of days she would be sent off to Rakushou, to the distant Kou Empire, Jishou and their small region of the world's interests tucked into the folds of her splendid wedding robes.

His firstborn daughter, to be packed and sent away again like he'd packed and sent her away ten years prior. Like Caera hadn't collapsed in on itself and she hadn't tried to hold together the shards of a fractured nation with her own two hands; like she hadn't come away from that experience bleeding and a changed woman.

But here Mameyoshi was, charging a task of momentous responsibility and risk to the only person he could, to the only person he knew capable. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, a taste his tea augmented all too well.

He downed the rest of his cup in one fell gulp.

"We—Shiro, Yuki, and I—we believe she's ready for this, uncle."

Mameyoshi almost chuckled at that. "She is." _She is,_ he reminded himself as he set his cup down and clasped his hands in his sleeves; _she's risen from the ashes of her past._

Still his tongue slipped: "She has to be."

Ali dipped his head. "She will be protected if she isn't. She will be protected even if she is, I promise. She will not be alone in the Eastern continent, this I promise you."

A magister did not give their word lightly. The declaration made Mameyoshi raise his own brow, and he looked at Ali wryly. "Surely the Magisterium cannot read that far into the situation, or even into the future. Enlightened as you all may be, I cannot help but worry for her…her wellbeing, her life. Especially with the events five years ago, and the strangeness of Kou. A father only hopes his daughter will be protected at every turn by the man he entrusts her to."

 _Six years ago now,_ he internally amended. A full year had already passed, and another spring was upon them.

Across from him, the younger man looked away, pursing his lips. He knit his brows together, creasing his forehead—as if thinking, for a moment, how to reply.

Then Alihaddra stood, made his way round the low table, and got on his knees before him. He laid his fingers on the ground, and with one shallow breath, lowered his head to the floor.

The magister lay prostrate before him, the ultimate sign of deference in Jishouan culture.

He uttered quietly: "We will protect her. I swear upon my honor, and my word."

Mameyoshi rolled his eyes at the ceremony, but inwardly and despite himself, felt himself breathe easier, his chest loosening with a sigh he hadn't known he'd been withholding. "Do get up. You can't greet Sayuri like that."

There was a short chuckle from Alihaddra as he slowly recovered from his stance, smoothing his finely embroidered camel-colored jacket all the while.

The King watched silently as he did this. Then Mameyoshi lifted a hand to grasp the magister's shoulder—he squeezed it, murmuring as he looked away, "Just keep her safe, my son."

* * *

A travel-worn Sayuri returned with her chests and trunks, and Ren Kouen's thick gold collar worn dutifully around her neck. Mameyoshi fought the twitch of his lips to keep from sneering at the sight, as she clambered onto his carriage with her cumbersome hairstyle and robes.

The King was deservedly not very fond of Kou—fine young men as Koumei and Kouen only seemed to be. Kouen might have (deliberately or not, but Kou's Crown Prince was no fool, he knew) played into his hand by asking to marry Sayuri, but he still did not relish the idea of having to hand his children over to a twisted empire like Kou.

"You've done such good work keeping to tradition, Sayu," He said as the carriage began to move, starting their journey from the docks of Tohouku to the summer palace. "Considering this wedding is the result of Kou's contrivance, someone should perhaps applaud you."

Sayu just sat back on her seat, groaning and rubbing the back of her neck. She looked to be well enough, given the circumstances: she always returned from her travels with a light tan to her skin, because Jishou did not receive much sun compared to Caera and Ariavat. He could always count on Ariavat's Queen to keep Sayuri's days leisurely, yet the scoundrels in Caera always kept her busy; the fact that she always traveled east whenever they beckoned still secretly irritated him.

 _Let children fix their own messes,_ he always said, _otherwise they will never learn._

But likewise, Sayuri was no child. She was smart enough to make her own choices; she had been for a long time now.

He watched as she plopped her hand down on the carriage seat. Some metal clinked as she did so. He half-wondered at how heavy the manacles she called bracelets peeking out of her sleeves seemed to be.

"Alihaddra's already here," Mameyoshi said, playing a small smile to mask his internal ruminations. He could see the visible way she perked as he said those words. "Nobuhime as well."

She seemed surprised at the latter part of his statement. Her green eyes widened, and she absently lifted another hand to brush back a stray strand of her hair as she seemed to ponder something. "I would've thought Mameha would be here too."

He merely smiled wider, showing his teeth. "We'll all travel west for the binding ceremony, of course. But last autumn she insisted on studying Jishou's history up north, where Nobushiro is right now," Sayuri's brows shot up to her hairline. He fought back a chuckle. "I assume it has something to do with the summer before's events."

His daughter nodded slowly, parsing the information. The surprise was still on her face even as she uttered, "I'm proud of her for taking the step. We rule effectively if we understand those we rule, and their stories."

The surprise died away. Briefly, Sayuri smiled, tinged with melancholy as her expression was, and looked out the latticed windows of the royal carriage.

She snuck a glance at him, eyes sharp and curious for just a moment. "But any serious study requires time, does it not?"

"It does," He replied easily. "The monks and the scribes don't leave their mountains for anyone, either—but rest assured she will be there for quite a while, since none of the courtiers seem to be in such a rush to wed her off anymore—" _because your betrothal bought her leeway,_ "—the time for her to learn is ripe."

To which Sayuri made a quiet noise of understanding. She had set her elbow down on the window's ledge, and leant her cheek on her palm. It brought attention to the gold band with the enormous ruby sitting on her ring finger.

"Perhaps she'll even stay until she's twenty," Mameyoshi continued. He caught her eye, smiling a bit for her benefit, because he knew she cared deeply about all her siblings, and that she would've worried all year-round about Mameha and what would become of the nineteen year old. "Perhaps she'll marry who she chooses, and I will simply follow her wishes. You've swayed the courtiers with your accomplishments thus far, and with Mameha showing a real interest in governing the country, the court may be easier to persuade when it comes to what your sister wants. But—"

The King sighed, resisting the urge to move his eyes heavenward. "—With the way the rest of the world is, not only Jishou but the Triangle will need all the political capital it can get. The outside is closing in. Unsavory as this alliance with Kou is, it is only the beginning. We all need to tread with more caution than before."

He looked at her, to see if she understood.

She didn't—at least not completely. The wrinkle in her brow, the tight line her lips had made, the narrowing of her eyes; these were signs he could read off of her as if she was a scroll. Mameyoshi knew she was trying to understand.

But he wasn't the right person to explain this to her, and in due time she would be made to understand. The rest of the world would soon be opened up to her, after all.

 _My daughter,_ his mind whispered and echoed. He wished he were happier, more optimistic. Sayuri did not need his weariness, when he was sending her to fulfill a weary task. He wished he didn't feel half as old as he did right then.

"Alihaddra brought you a wedding present, by the way," He amended. "Not exactly what I had in mind, but you must admit he always outdoes himself on his promises."

And now the confusion on her face was full-blown. Mameyoshi opted to remain cryptically silent for the rest of the ride to the palace, deciding to watch the passing spring scenery out his window all the while, disguising his thoughts with an absent-minded facade.

* * *

When he went to see her, she was in her father's wing of the palace again, a setting reminiscent of the last time they saw each other.

The last time they saw each other was nearly ten months ago, a stretch of time that at once seemed both long and fleeting. Time seemed to be doing that, these days; some days Kuja would wake up, often within the ivory, sun-bleached minarets of the Magisterium in Ariavat, expecting to be sixteen again, a young trainee at the beginning of his studies—only to be surprised when he realized what day it was, what years had already passed by.

Which wasn't to say he was alarmed with the way that time slipped through his fingers, and had mysteriously blown itself out his candlelit window, never to be seen again—he was rarely truly alarmed, these days, even with all that was happening—but he wondered, like all magisters did.

Sayu was old. Old _er._ Everyone was. Each time he ventured out of his cloister in the desert she changed, and it had before taken him some time to accept that she always would, that the world was ever-shifting, ever-changing, no matter how still and infinite and unmoving the universe seemed to be in the Magisterium. When she returned from Caera all those years ago and he'd seriously ventured outside the Ethersand for the first time in four years—the difference in who he was and who _she_ was had been staggering, and although he'd since made his peace with those truths, he still wondered.

 _You need to get out more,_ was what Shiro had told him. Kuja grinned. That was a fine piece of advice Nobushiro had intimated—advice he didn't follow often, despite his intentions.

For now he was grateful he'd managed to snatch enough time for himself, and for Sayuri. She _was_ getting married again, after all. He would've regretted not going, especially since he'd missed her first sending-off, too.

"Sayuri," Kuja called as he swept his hand to his heart and bowed deep.

As if on cue the silhouette behind the curtain shook, its shoulders trembling a little as her answering chuckle wafted its way to his ears like music. He smiled, and straightened as Fuu stood to draw the thin panels of fabric to the side: one by one the swathes of silk parted, and his friend was bared to him, a smile on her face as plain as day.

That afternoon she looked different. She was decked out in stark white and crimson, with extra layers of silk piled underneath her stiff outer robe. A magnificent blood red dragon was embroidered over her shoulders, its claws sinking into the skin over her collarbones. The hues of her clothes complimented the glittering gold jewelry Ren Kouen had given her, but Kuja was hooked to the playful look in her eye as she offered him her hand. He went forward immediately to help her stand and descend from the raised platform she'd previously been sitting on.

Hand still in his, Kuja gestured to the side. "My wedding gift."

And truthfully, he hadn't known what to give her, but this—at the back of the room, another pair of servants slid open a set of doors, to reveal an older man with his arms crossed. He came forward at Kuja's beckoning, and with a touch of regret, the prince let go of Sayuri's hand to introduce his wedding gift.

"This is Davvid Kyrios," Kuja said, "a spellblade, a magister, a scholar. Your father gave his blessing to let this man be on your honor guard; it would please me if you accepted him into your guard as well, Sayu."

"You mean…" Her brows were both raised as she looked at him and then into the grinning, scarred face of Davvid, who was still dressed in his desert robes, his boots still warm from the Ariavatan sun. "You're to be sworn into service? To _me?"_

Davvid nodded. His grin transformed into a smirk as he uncrossed his arms and said: "It makes no difference to me, y'know. A magister's most important—and _only_ vow is to serve. Ali here," He nudged his head toward Kuja, "asked if I could lend him a hand. I agreed; figured serving one of the Triangle's most prominent faces would be more exciting than being shut in the desert for the rest of my natural life."

There would be no question of loyalty, no question of skill—magisters as knights and guardsmen were few and far in between, considering the nature of their path. Most were content traveling the world, or serving the countries they came from, or continuing scholarly pursuits in the Ethersand; Kuja had done all three for a great deal of his life as a magister, but there were always special instances that required something else. This was easily one of them, and the Magisterium had besides already given its ready approval.

"It's an honor, by the way. Nice to finally meet you—" Davvid said, bowing quickly. He tacked on at the end—"Your Highness."

"You're a Caeran man," Sayu uttered softly as her eyes followed Davvid's actions, "I can tell. Caera has been in need of its magisters for a while now." She uncertainly looked at Kuja.

The man scratched his chin a bit. He replied, in his grizzled, cocksure voice, though at that moment it had lent itself to a little pondering: "Well…they need a certain type of magister, I'm sure you're well aware, Princess. I'm not exactly a wiseguy that advises the senate. More of the combative type, if you know what I mean."

Kuja nearly bit his lip, fingers twitching at his sides. Sayu had no reason to be uncertain, he'd carefully thought this decision through—he'd sought out Davvid on purpose, knowing he would best be suited to this task. "He'll protect you, Sayu. While you're out in Kou. I would trust him with my life, which is why I would trust him with yours."

She looked at him. They locked eyes—his heart beat in his ears. _I promised your father. I_ will _protect you,_ the beat chanted, over and over again in the span of a few breaths, and he knew the exact moment when she made her decision.

Sayuri dipped her head. She cracked a smile at him, then at Davvid. "Alright."

* * *

"Sayu, are you listening?"

In the easy silence of the day before her ship left for Rakushou, they sat together in the gardens, like two children resting from a day's worth of hide-and-seek in the woods. The summer palace was still beautiful, even in the other seasons—the weeping willow was perhaps even more beautiful then, with its long leaves like fingers dancing vibrant green in the spring breezes. Everything was more alive, and the rukh was humming up and down the mountain, a vibrant melody he could always hear if he sat back and attuned his mind.

In fact, he'd been sitting back right then, absently humming to the sound of life so Sayuri could hear, before popping his question. He'd earlier convinced her to let her hair down that day— _what's one day in the privacy of the gardens, Sayu_ —and so there she was in her plainclothes, her head laying on his crossed ankles, her long silver hair spilt over his robes and the green grass.

Her eyes were closed, hands folded over her chest in the middle, where her heart lay. She'd eschewed all her betrothal jewelry as well, the only ornamentation on her then being the bracelets he'd given her last summer.

But was she dozing off or merely listening?

He got his answer in the form of her own quiet humming: "Mhmm."

Nobuhime was there, as well—she was separated from them by a tree root, a little fold-over table above her lap and her writing instruments splayed about her in an organized mess as she continued her calligraphy; on the other side of the garden, Davvid was watching, though not very vigilantly, and was more admiring the Jishouan scenery he was no doubt glimpsing for the first time in his life.

"I want you to know that you can trust Davvid," He said, leaning back and resting his head on the willow's thick trunk. "Trust him as you would trust me, and if you have anything you must say that no one else must know, anything you must tell _me,_ or your father—you can tell Davvid. He'll get the message sent."

He glanced at his lap.

Sayuri, eyes still closed, nodded. It rustled the fabric of his robe, and Kuja leant his head back on the tree, going back to his humming.

* * *

.

.

.

The drums could be heard a mile away.

Outside the palace, crowds had already gathered, and she could see nothing but a mass of robes and heads as far as her young gaze extended—the sea ebbed and flowed, threatening to spill into the one gray avenue that parted the crowds. The road started from the palace and wormed all the way to the walls of Rakushou, and hedged on both sides were imperial guards beating back the tide, making way for the foreign party everyone in the palace had whispered about for so long.

Kougyoku stood glued to her window, body nearly half-out like a fishwife in the market, as her royal governess would've scolded her of being. Behind her, servants hurried past in the commotion, carrying back and forth things that would be needed to welcome the new procession.

"Ji-shou," She tasted the foreign word on her tongue as she stared, transfixed at the column of blue-outfitted men slowly making its way on the middle of the gray avenue. Men on grey chargers with blue and green armor led the procession, followed by lines of drummers that beat their instruments as they went, and men with flutes, horns, and lutes shadowed after. The rest of the Jishouan cavalcade was indistinguishable between guardsmen, green-robed attendants, and servants, save for the large palanquin with billowing panels of silver silk at its tail end, carried by at least two dozen men.

This slow blue snake slithered up and up the hill, coming closer and closer to the Imperial Palace, the heart of the Empire, and Kougyoku watched it all with her own two eyes, wondering what the Princess of Jishou was like all the while.

 _Sayuri Jie, the First Princess of Jishou, the Kou Empire's new ally from the East Kou Sea,_ Ka Koubun had told her.

Soon enough, the towering red gates of the palatial complex were opened, and the procession shed its cavalry, its ceremonial band.

Only the palanquin advanced, with two men standing at the forefront, leading the way—their many steps were silent, as they walked proudly on the splendid red and gold carpet Kou had laid out for them.

In the light of the afternoon sun and from her window in the Imperial Palace, Kougyoku saw the silhouette of one person, sitting in the middle of the palanquin, shadowed by the swirling silver silk but perched stock-still and carefully nestled like a gift of the greatest value to be presented to Kou.

"Princess!" She turned left to see Ka Koubun bent over, catching his breath. He fanned himself as he straightened, a semi-panicked expression on his face. "Princess, I've been looking all over the palace for you! Come—" He took her wrist in his, and she reluctantly let him drag her away from her window. "—We must take our places beside the Emperor! The party from Jishou has already entered the gates—"

They scurried to the Emperor's wing, Ka Koubun pushing past nobles and servants alike in his haste to get them both to the throne room in time. When they arrived, he hurriedly smoothed her new dress and pushed her to the front of the small crowd of her relatives.

Kouha was already there, smirking at her and _tsk_ -ing at her lateness. As soon as she came to stand beside him, he lifted his palm and licked it, flattening it across her head.

She would've shrieked, were it not for the dozens of eyes already staring at her with disapproval. Instead she disgustedly lifted his wrist off her hair, admonishing him with a whispered " _Kouha_!"

He shrugged in response. Outwardly, her brother looked nonchalant about the goings-on about the palace, but she could tell with the way his eyes wandered back to the throne room's massive doors that he too was anticipating the arrival of the foreign emissaries from Jishou.

Kouha whispered back as he looked at the far end of the hall, "Your hair was standing up. It looked weird."

To the left end, her father was seated on the dragon throne, no one but her older brother Koumei standing beside him on the imperial dais. They were both wearing new robes, with hues of black and the deepest violet.

Even obscured by the emperor's headdress, she could tell Koutoku was bored— _but father has always been like that,_ she thought with a shiver. He was leaning one elbow on the throne, his other hand resting uselessly on his lap. He would be receiving someone who was soon to be wedded into their family, someone who Kouen had selected with the aid of Koumei, and of course he would be bored, like he always seemed to be. He would not be Koutoku if he wasn't.

And it suddenly made more sense why Kouha would be paying such close attention to the arrival of the Jishouan princess. Kougyoku knew her brothers, knew her father—theirs was a proud family, and they would never settle for anything beneath them.

This woman was _Kouen's_.

Which made her wonder what _perfection_ was, in Kouen's eyes. After all: would a man like her lord brother want to wed anything else?

The doors opened.

Her father's chamberlain announced: "Sayuri Jie, the First Princess of Jishou, and her party!"

Kougyoku stifled her awe, remembering to keep her mouth closed. But in the throne room of Kou, which had the trappings of their blazing crimson sun, their glorious gold dragon, and their maroon and olive green heraldry, the Jishouan party were wisps clothed in silver and ivory, streaked with blue. They glided up the aisle with less pageantry this time, their foreign robes trailing after them.

Two standard-bearers brought up the front of the party, holding up their flags: on deep, cobalt blue bolts of cloth sat a single woven silver chrysanthemum, plain and simple. These two men then parted, revealing three figures to the throne of the Emperor.

On the left was someone familiar: Kougyoku hid her face in her sleeve as she gazed upon the stoic visage of Kyouya Korechika, the Jishouan ambassador. He looked even more handsome than the few times she'd seen him in palace, wearing a splendid white coat and having arranged his ink black hair differently.

The party, even the standard-bearers who laid down their arms, then got down on their knees, and lowered their heads to the floor, in silent respect to her father.

All except one, who instead swept one low curtsy, genuflecting.

Kougyoku continued to hide her face in her sleeve, looking at the feminine figure of who could only be the Jishouan princess, robed in sky-blue and white, but whose entire upper half was covered with a silver silk veil, completely obscuring her much sought after likeness.

She could only trace with her eyes the veiled profile of someone who she would soon be expected to call _sister,_ from the curve of her forehead to the shape of her elaborate hairstyle, which was outlined in detail because her veil was pinned there.

"What is this," Koutoku mocked. Kougyoku drew one short breath, eyes moving toward her father.

He sat up, shifting forward on his throne. He drawled in his booming voice that filled the cavernous hall—"I am in no mood for _games_ , Korechika."

She looked at the foreigners once again, half-scared of what they might respond.

Her father was the most terrifying person in the world when he was angry.

Korechika spoke, rising from his position on the floor but still kneeling. He clasped both his hands together and dipped his head. "No man must gaze upon any betrothed Jishouan woman before her wedding, Your Imperial Majesty. It is tradition in our country."

"Pah," Her father sneered, his wrinkly, spotted skin shifting to bare his teeth in a mocking smile. He leaned forward, the beads on his headdress swaying as he moved. He commanded: "I _will_ see what pretty trinket my son has defied _me_ for and brought home to the empire."

And all was silent, save for the sound of her own breathing. Shocked, her gaze flit to Koumei, standing beside their father.

His eyes were surveying the Jishouan party with no emotion, but when they landed on the princess they seemed to waver. He turned to Koutoku, mouth open to address the matter, _always the voice of reason,_ her mind breathed, when another voice spoke out—

"As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty."

It was a mild voice, a self-possessed voice. The veiled figure of Sayuri Jie seamlessly raised itself from its curtsy.

A beat passed.

Movement from the dais drew her eye. She watched as Koumei then stepped forward from the Emperor's side; he put his fan away, as he went down the steps to offer his hand to their sister-to-be.

Kougyoku could hear Kouha give a small _hmm._

They stood apart from each other in a respectable distance, but she watched the foreign princess slowly lift the voluminous, many-layered sleeve of her robes to reveal a wrist with a gold bracelet on it and a hand with a gold ring on its ring finger. Koumei gently took this hand in his, and with a short nod they ascended the steps together.

Koumei led her close to the Emperor, nearly just a foot away from him, and again Sayuri Jie lowered herself, to kneel at their father's feet.

The surprising intimacy of the moment was not lost on anyone. Koumei _knew_ this woman; he wouldn't have offered her his hand so readily otherwise.

And to have to lead her so close to the Emperor...it seemed familiar, almost, like a scene from a play she'd seen before. A play about kings and tyrants and princesses and whores.

But Kougyoku remembered who this woman actually was.

No one could see, could hear whatever words were being slipped in the space between the dragon throne and the place where the First Princess of Jishou stood on her knees in front of the Emperor.

All eyes were on them as Koutoku himself leant forward and lifted the end of the silver veil to hold it up, to behold the sight of his eldest son's bride even before Kouen could.

Koumei's own face was devoid of all emotion, but he wasn't looking at the Jishouan princess; he was watching _Koutoku_.

This was the sight the Emperor wanted, a sight for his eyes only.

And evidently whatever he saw pleased him, because he soon carelessly dropped his hold of the veil and gave a wicked, resounding laugh that echoed and bounced against the pillars that held the throne room up.

Kougyoku felt her skin crawl, but she just watched as her father then looked at Koumei, a smirk in place. "Your brother has certainly chosen well."

Then he stood and looked down at the princess, smiling.

He waved her off, apparently finished with her. "Take her to the Bamboo Palace."

"That _geezer_ ," She heard Kouha mutter underneath his breath.

* * *

Ka Koubun urged her on, chattering about how good it would be to curry favor with her future sister. They were walking to the western part of the imperial complex, where the Bamboo Palace was. The gardens were in fine condition today, and Kougyoku might've stopped to feed the carp were it not for the task her vassal advised her to do.

"I have heard whispers that she was friends with your lord brother, Prince Koumei," He continued, and smiled deviously at her. "To think! This afternoon's welcoming was evidence of that, Princess. The Emperor seemed happy enough with her too, we must place ourselves in a favorable position…"

Kougyoku tuned him out, her hands fidgeting in her sleeves. She was unsure how to approach this, and she was uncertain about paying a visit to the veiled princess so early—but…

"Do you think she likes duck, Ka Koubun?" She asked, a bit nervously.

 _Sayuri Jie,_ her mind repeated, _my future older sister, Kouen_ _—_ _Kouen's betrothed…_

 _I don't know anything about her,_ she inwardly cried, _how am I supposed to earn her favor?_

"Of course she does!" He replied, snorting. In his arrogant manner, he reassured her, "She will like your gift, Princess. After such a long and tiring journey, she must surely be hungry."

"Sounds wise enough to me," Kougyoku nodded, slightly heartened by the answer. It was true—and the roasted duck the imperial kitchens made was very good. If she did not like it, Kougyoku had made sure to bring other dishes she might like: braised chicken, tofu noodle soup, pine nuts, hot pot and deer tail were in the menu as well.

The entrance to the Bamboo Palace was hidden by two walls of carefully grown bamboo, with a passage in the middle; her retinue squeezed quietly by the narrow way, before being greeted by the sprawling west wing of the imperial palace where the Jishouan princess was expected to temporarily reside in the days before her wedding. After then she would be moved to Kouen's wing.

The Bamboo Palace was more quiet and secluded than the rest of the complex, but still it was beautiful; the mystery of the Jishouan party seemed to fit the environment. There was a low bridge over the a small pond that led to the gateway, guarded by two stone lions and two Jishouan guards, of the west wing.

They crossed, coming to a stop before the actual palace, built with stone, wood, and a gently sloped gable like the rest of the complex. Before their presence could be alerted to the Jishouan attendants, however, the doors slid open.

"Koumei," She blurted, seeing the unmistakable form of her older brother in the doorway of the Bamboo Palace. He was even wearing his customary purple robes, some scrolls tucked into the crook of his arm, like he usually appeared whenever she bumped into him at the palace.

He was speaking to someone, but when he turned back and saw her at the bottom of the steps, he seemed just as surprised to see her there. "Oh, it's you, Kougyoku."

Koumei turned back, continuing his conversation. Soon enough he nodded—and—and—

 _Did he just…smile?_

The young girl blinked. Koumei was already coming down the steps, Dantalion obscuring the lower half of his face. He asked as he yawned, "What...are you doing here?"

Still surprised, she just continued to stare at him. "I…I…I...I was just going to give something to the princess...?"

"Food?" He looked uninterestedly towards her attendants, who were carrying the aforementioned gift. "How thoughtful. She cannot give you a private audience, I'm afraid."

"I…n-no, brother…" She looked away, flustered, feeling the need to cover her own face. "I just thought…she would be hungry, that's all."

Surprisingly, her older brother's eyes softened at that. He lowered his fan for a moment. "She would appreciate that. Did you bring tea and dumplings?"

"Oh, uh," Her voice grew smaller. "No."

"She would prefer those." Koumei nodded at the Jishouan handmaidens who'd held the door open, and began to receive her gift to the princess. He returned his gaze back to her. "Come back with them another time, then. For now you must come with me; I was to summon you after I returned from here. The Empress sent us missives."

Kougyoku felt her heart stutter. The Empress. She would have to write back immediately—Koumei already began moving in the direction from which she came, and there was time only for one glance at the doors to the Bamboo Palace, which were still open.

What she did not expect, however, was when Ka Koubun and her attendants soon turned their backs to cross the bridge and leave the west wing, and another figure stepped in view of the doorway.

Two handmaidens began sliding the doors closed, but not before Kougyoku glimpsed the profile of a woman in blue, her silver hair swept up in an elaborate hairstyle decorated with gold chains and hairsticks. Matching earrings hung from her lobes, and two golden lions sat at the base of her throat.

She looked up. Unmistakably, this woman was looking at her too, and the crinkles at the corners of her green eyes matched the curve of the smile on her lips.

But Sayuri Jie's smile for Kougyoku was short, because she soon turned back and her handmaidens slid her doors shut.

Kougyoku rushed to catch up to her older brother, who'd stood waiting for her alone outside the walls of bamboo. There was a burning to her cheeks as she called for him to wait up.

* * *

Notes:

Well, that was...eventful. Sort of.

(1) So, in this chapter are POV's we admittedly won't get very often; Mameyoshi and Kuja(!). And Kougyoku as well, hey. I'm sorry if people are being vague and weird and overprotective. Plot, y'know.

(2) Kougyoku and Kouha are about 14 now. Are there missing Kou characters? Well it's _really_ hard to write all of them at once. Hence this contrivance, but there's a plot point about this hidden here somewhere.

(3) I'd like to know what's your opinion of this Koutoku; obviously, he's a complex dad figure to all of his children. And I love Kougyoku. So of course, I also really want to do her justice. Any thoughts on these renditions? Constructive criticism is always welcome!

I noticed there are a lot of new readers out here; [ _waves_ ] wassup fam! Admittedly, this chapter is for you guys and the usual crowd (I missed _you_ guys!), because it's been quite the while. I _do_ hope you'll leave a review if you read this far, because I want to know how this fic is working - any questions, any comments, are always welcome.

Anyone who guesses where I got the chapter title from, pitch your oneshots/AU ideas at me. Just for fun, y'know? See you in the next chapter!


	11. Increaseth Her Sorrow

**11**

 _Increaseth Her Sorrow_

 _Princess Sayuri!_

 _Princess Sayuri!_

 _Sayuri!_

The drums had beat so loud. It was a proper Jishouan beat, raucous and merry, a tune to herald her arrival in Kou, and the horns and flutes had boisterously kept up with the melody.

Their entrance into Rakushou had been a spirited cavalcade, one that was wildly received by the citizens.

 _Sayuri! Sayuri! Sayuri!_

The chanting had started almost as soon as the music started, as soon as Kyouya, seated on his silver charger, had galloped ahead to lead her procession inside the opening gates of the Imperial City.

And it went on even as her palanquin advanced deeper into the heart of Kou's capital, the pitch of which only rose to a frenzied litany as her party marched on.

Sayuri's heart had never raced so much in her lifetime. To see men and women— _Kou_ men and women she had never even seen nor met clamoring and invoking her name in feverous strings of _princess, princess, princess,_ had petrified her.

 _Crown Princess Sayuri!_

Beyond her veil, beyond the silks of her palanquin, the shadows of people clawed at her. If she looked straight, Rakushou loomed like a Jishouan city she half-remembered from a dream: the streets, the buildings, and even the way the people dressed were reminiscent of her country, and she'd thought in the space of one breath, _my people, my people, they're chanting my name_ —and in the space of another nearly reached out for one of the hands outstretched toward her, before realizing with a spine-tingling chill that she was in fact in Kou, and she was on a procession towards the Imperial Palace, where she would meet the Emperor.

Outside, the shrieking had continued all the same.

 _Princess Sayuri, may you bring good fortune upon our empire,_ a woman intoned.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

The princess did not turn. Instead she watched two of her servants place Kouen's sword, cleaned and oiled, along with its newly waxed scabbard, on a decorative rack right in front of her.

"I—" She breathed, not wanting to sound emotional. She took another small breath, knowing that she had come west well with the knowledge of what kind of man Ren Koutoku was, and how many men—and women he had under his command.

She'd worn the veil because that was what the final days in the betrothal period called for. And she could not have presented herself to the entirety of the Kou court without it; perhaps she was informal with these traditions in the Triangle, but in Kou she knew she would have to follow rules.

Still, apparently the Emperor superseded tradition. It made her wonder; he did not seem to hold much regard for the tradition of marriage, but he himself had bothered with it as well, even if he filled entire palace wings with his concubines. He had shown her nothing but contempt and disregard the minute she had entered the palace, and he no doubt thought of her as nothing more than his eldest son's concubine that happened to come with a foreign title.

He was wholly mistaken.

Sayuri sighed, clasping her hands in her sleeves. She looked off to the side, knowing Koumei was still listening for her answer. "You of all people don't have to apologize for what His Imperial Majesty says."

Koutoku's words were his own.

Still, seeing Koumei here after the deluge of foreign sights and sounds was a kindness she was grateful for.

In fact—Sayuri turned, and she was only slightly saddened by the fact that he would not be able to see her face, and the small smile it had pulled itself into for him. Koumei was still standing on the other side of her new tea room in the Bamboo Palace.

He looked the same as ever. Tired eyes and messy red hair, the ever-present purple robes. He hadn't spoken much other than when he'd shown her the way to her living quarters, and his apology had come out of the blue in the silence that had stretched between them.

Her silver veil cast a gossamer pall on everything she saw, an infinite reminder of how she had bound herself to Kouen. But she could still see when Koumei blinked slowly, his own way of expressing his silent disbelief at her words.

Yet he didn't argue.

"If you'll excuse me then," He said quietly. Sayuri dipped her head, a tacit dismissal.

At the far end of her room, two handmaidens slid the main doors of her wing open. Koumei made to leave, and Sayuri accompanied him as he made his way out.

Davvid stood nearby, arms crossed but he kept an eye on her small courtyard outside. Her personal bodyguard squinted at something seemingly in the distance. "Someone's here."

That drew Sayuri's attention, though not by much. She'd only arrived hours earlier in Kou, and she already had a visitor—most likely a well-wisher, someone looking to curry favor with her, the future Crown Princess. Perhaps people thought she had Kouen's ear, which was indeed something any serious courtier probably would've wanted in Kou's political circuits.

Except she didn't. The last time she'd seen, much less spoken to, her intended was months ago.

She gave another sigh, resisting the urge to rub her temples. Her neck ached with the weight of her hair and her gold ornaments piled on top of her head, but she was resolved on hospitality. Especially since she was new to the country and had few allies, there would be no value in alienating anyone who wanted her favor.

 _Not yet, at least._

Someone called out Koumei's name. He turned to see what was down the steps, and Sayuri stood to the side, curious about this visitor. They'd said his name without his title, so it was either someone who knew him or outstripped him in station. But he was an Imperial Prince, so…

She padded softly towards Davvid. He was discreetly looking out the window—but he soon transferred his gaze to her, grinning toothily.

"Must be one of the princesses."

Sayuri agreed: "It would seem so."

Koumei turned back to face the two of them, and she tilted her head at him.

"Your sister?" She gently pressed.

He pursed his lips—but then he smiled, a touch ruefully. "Yes, the youngest. I have to call her away however. We have some business to take care of."

Idly, she wondered what business. The girl had sounded quite young, too young to be in politics anyway—so, family business, perhaps.

"You're tired, are you not? I shouldn't impose any longer."

And he bowed, which made her chuckle. "Thank you, Koumei. I'd invite you for tea and rice cakes, but my household hasn't properly settled in yet."

When he bowed and left, she stood by her door, moving to unpin her veil.

"Here, let me get that for you," Davvid said, from behind her. Sayuri thanked him quietly, rolling her shoulders as he drew the silver silk and her vision was properly restored.

Two of her girls went down the steps, and when they came back inside they returned with two large and steaming wooden cylinders, apparently a gift from whoever her visitor was. "It's food, my Lady."

"I see," Sayuri breathed, rubbing the back of her aching neck. Now that food had been mentioned—she realized she _was_ rather hungry. "Fuu—would you help them set up in the inner courtyard?"

The blonde in question nodded readily.

"She's young, you know."

She glanced at Davvid again. He was folding her veil, but he was looking at her, and nudged his head toward the window. A tone of knowing—that tone that seemed to come with every magister—had filled his words.

Without thinking, she stepped into the doorway.

A girl was retreating into the bamboo. Her vibrant maroon Ren hair streamed behind her in two long locks, but they first gathered at the top of her head in two loops like rabbit ears; with each footfall her frilled yellow skirt fluttered.

Despite herself, a smile alighted on her lips. "If she's the youngest, then she must be Nobuhime's age. Kyouya told me."

 _Little princess,_ she thought. They would be sisters soon. Fleetingly, she wondered if the little princess had intended to sit her down for a meal and talk to her—and as if on cue, she and the girl locked eyes.

The girl seemed startled at her gaze, which nearly made Sayuri chuckle. Almost as if for her sake, the older woman turned away from her doors, letting her maids slide it shut behind her.

Fuu returned at that instant, telling her the food was ready in the inner courtyard. The three of them—she, Davvid, and Fuu—withdrew from the entrance to her wing, lockstep with each other.

It was a bold move on the girl's part, in retrospect. She appeared naïve and easily alarmed, with the wide-eyed look she'd sent Sayu when their eyes met. Unless she was a more skillful conversationalist than she seemed, which would've been a great feat for any courtier her age, Sayu sincerely doubted her appearance at her wing of the imperial complex today was her idea.

The little princess seemed young and innocent, and Sayuri sincerely hoped it was so. The idea that such a precious creature was Kouen's little sister, however, brought a wry curve to her lips.

"I wonder," the Jishouan princess said aloud to nobody in particular as they walked, "when father and the rest are arriving." She turned to Fuu, uttering with a smile, "It would be nice to have the family all together again. I haven't seen the little ones in ages."

* * *

Everything was ghostly in the world that her veil created. People seemed reluctant to seek her out, when she took her tea in the gardens and took strolls with her ambassador. They were shadows, flitting in and out of her sight, just hovering in the corners of her vision. Not once did these Kou people approach her, and every maid and guard not hers seemed uncomfortable having to speak to a woman whose face was entirely obscured from them.

Not even the little princess sought her out again. Kyouya had told her she was actually Kouen's half-sister, born to a courtesan—though with the whispers Fuu had acquainted her with, Kyouya's explanation seemed like a polite rewording of the girl's birth.

"It's a fine sword you have," Her friend was saying. Even Kyouya Korechika was a pale imitation of his usual self, and his dark hair seemed like nothing but stains against her veil.

She missed seeing his eyes—anyone's eyes. His were supposed to be a flinty shade of grey, like fresh steel that had just been folded into the shape of a sword. Since he wouldn't have been able to see the way she'd twisted her lips at his comment, she settled for tilting her head at him dubiously, clasping her hands in her sleeves.

"The one in my tea room?"

"Yes," With his fingers, he expertly maneuvered the long, blocky chopsticks that were the norm in Kou. He picked up a dumpling and ate it in one bite, asking in his low, stoic voice, "Where did you get it?"

Sayuri scowled. Normally she wouldn't have, but the concealment of her facial expressions was at least good for that. "A birthday gift. From Kouen."

He stilled. Then he raised a faintly curious brow, continuing in his deadpan manner, "Then it shouldn't be on display. The Crown Prince is a practical man, a soldier. He would expect you to use it."

"For what?" She rolled her eyes. "I have a magister as a bodyguard now, the idea seems redundant. And it's no small thing, to learn how to use a sword. I wouldn't have the time."

The princess looked at him. His expression remained unchanged, that impertinent brow of his still raised. With no emotion, he said: "Regardless, that is what he'd want."

 _Who cares what he wants,_ she wanted to say, but held her tongue, knowing she was being petty. She barely even knew Kouen; she felt he had no right to order her around.

And all this because he gifted her a sword for her birthday.

"I would've expected more jewels," She groused, "a comb, a set of hairsticks, something equally useless. But he sent me a sword."

Kyouya took an unfazed sip of his tea as she said this. "Something actually useful _._ "

Sayuri glanced away at that.

It was true. At least her betrothed had had the sense to send her something not even half as frivolous as other suitors, but it still unsettled her. After years of being chased by men and women alike, being flattered and cajoled by nearly every person she met in court, she'd grown used to seeing past people and picking apart their ulterior motives. Somebody always wanted something, and they would do everything to get it.

Beyond this small matter, she realized she did not know her betrothed at all.

What did Kouen want from her?

If all he wanted was to solidify the alliance between Kou and Jishou, he would've went ahead with their bid for Mameha's hand, not risking the failure in asking for Sayuri's.

 _But he asked for me, not once, but twice—_ her trade connections were one thing. She had, after all, refused their post of trade ambassador.

 _And I exchanged that title to be his wife in the end._

"Give him credit," Kyouya said.

She glanced at him, the only other person besides Davvid that she could trust with her life in the entirety of the vast Kou Empire.

He was looking at her, and even with the physical barrier, he seemed to know straight where her eyes were. "Ren Kouen is a man worth understanding. Everything he does is for a reason."

* * *

Kouen made it in time for their wedding, of course.

In between warmongering and conquest and divvying up the spoils of war, her betrothed returned to the imperial capital, and Sayuri would've been cynical about it if she could stop how suddenly her heart raced when Fuu returned with the news of his carriage being spotted in the city.

Even the palace was in an uproar. When Kouen returned her family would be coming soon after, and there was a rush to ready everything in time. She couldn't actually speak to him, much less even see him—Kou wedding tradition forbade that, even if Jishouan tradition permitted it.

And so she waited, and the only day she actually got to see her intended again was her wedding day.

More than a hundred nobles and officials had gathered in the great hall that stretched impossibly long. The path before her was swathed in a blood red carpet that muffled each step she took, closer and closer until at last she would reach the altar.

They were shadows, all of them, splotches of grey painted against her veil if she didn't look too closely, an inconceivable blur if she just paid attention to the sound of her own beating heart.

 _I've done this before,_ she told herself. The chalice full of wine in her hands seemed to disagree, and every few steps or so she feared that she'd drop it because her fingers were damp with sweat.

 _You were Crown Princess once,_ her mind whispered, _you will be Crown Princess again, if you go through with this._

The wine rippled. Sayuri bit her lip, and looked ahead.

Before she knew it, she was at the base of the altar, where the carpet climbed up the steps to a grand table. Out of the left corner of her eye, there was her family, father, mother, brothers, and sisters, looking at her with smiles and their snow-white robes.

She felt a small smile take over her face upon seeing them. Her wedding celebration would be the last time she'd see them in a long while, but at the sight of them her heart felt like it would burst, overcome by their silent support.

Now, to the right, Kouen stood.

She turned to him a bit slowly, mindful of the chalice. She had to look up to him, tall as he was, and he took one step closer—her breathing hitched as he lifted his hands to remove her veil.

Sayu could only nervously look into his face as he cast away the silver mantle that had taken over her vision in the last month.

And he'd remained unchanged; his hair, more scarlet than maroon, and those inscrutable, arrogant eyes staring down her face. She wondered what he saw.

They climbed the steps together, and when they reached the top, Koutoku awaited, long dark beard curled around his twisted grin. She offered her chalice to Kouen, who in turn offered her a long, red ribbon—and the Emperor was speaking again in his voice made of thunder, the sound reverberating in her ears like a dirge, and her fingers trembled as she struggled to loop her end of the ribbon over their shared cup of wine.

Kouen had spoken his vow first, before drinking from the cup: _I will honor you, as I honor this Empire._

When she drank, the wine was sweet, honeyed.

 _And you, Sayuri,_ she had thought as the deep pool of violet swirled in her hands before she tipped her head back and drunk, _will you really honor the Empire, as you honor him?_

* * *

Surprisingly, she had stayed interested throughout the festivities, though she hadn't truly known what to expect. She sat between Kouen and the Emperor, apparently a place of tremendous honor, though she sent many longing looks to where the Jishouan party was seated.

Yet still. There was music. Dancing. Food. Alcohol. All the elements of a good wedding banquet—Sayuri herself had been riveted by the performances, which had included a certain amount of acrobatics. She'd felt her eyes go wide as saucers as she watched men and women dressed like phoenixes and dragons, flipping and standing on their hands, all to the blistering beat set by drums, gongs, and cymbals.

At that point, Kouen had turned to her with a brow raised.

"It's a unique performance," She said, a bit hotly. She suspected the reaction had something to do with the amount of alcohol she'd drunk. It was slightly unfair; Kouen had been slipping himself bits and pieces of food throughout the entire night, and she'd never seen him eat more than a couple of bites.

By contrast, she'd been tired and hungry when the banquet began, and she'd fumbled slightly with Kou's strange, oversized chopsticks when trying to get the food into her mouth. It had been an arduous task to appear elegant all the while, and although she thought she managed it, Kouen still looked like his normal, aloof self after four hours of wedding activities.

They'd spoken little the entire night. Sayuri didn't particularly feel inclined to change that either—so after saying her piece, she downed a little of Kou's version of rice wine, which was thick, milky white, and sticky sweet in her throat.

There were many more toasts, from some ingratiating noble or some old general; Sayuri thought she saw Davvid, wearing some proper robes this time, almost nod off at one point.

Suffice to say, she missed the parties in the Triangle. Boisterous Jishouan parties with everyone all over everyone. Wild Ariavatan parties where she could dance until her feet fell off. Long Caeran parties where she always ate more than she should. This was not bad in comparison—but she felt a pang of melancholy when she realized this would be her life from then on, reluctantly clinking cups with the Emperor and staying by Kouen's side.

When she felt her cheeks grow too hot—from a surplus of wine or tears, she didn't know—she quietly excused herself from the table.

 _This is your wedding night,_ she thought with some frustration, _you're supposed to enjoy it._

The outside of the banquet hall was cool, and the wide courtyard hallway was windy. She approached the wooden balustrade, gazing at the gardens. She leaned herself against a nearby pillar, breathing heavily.

 _One breath at a time._

The quiet voice in the back of her head suspiciously sounded a lot like Kuja, the bastard. She pressed a hand to her mouth, grasping the balustrade tightly. She missed him and all the fond remnants of her past life.

 _This is your life now,_ she reminded herself. _This is where you are._

She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, as if trying to hold back the memories. One breath at a time, she had to remember, if that wasn't enough, one heartbeat.

 _There is always a choice,_ Kuja had said. _And the blossoms will bloom again._

Sayuri leaned her side on the pillar again, gazing at the still garden shimmering blue under the Kou moon. A full night still lay ahead of her.

Had they noticed she was gone from the banquet yet?

It seemed unimportant, when she remembered Kyouya telling her that after the feast newlyweds were expected to retire to the bridal chamber. Therefore as long as she got there before Kouen did—none would be the wiser of her whereabouts, thinking she'd just gotten tired from the party early and decided to go straight to bed.

But that would be a conscious admission of her weakness.

So, after regaining a few breaths of fresh air, she smoothed her robes and readjusted her hair ornaments. On her way back in the banquet hall, Davvid followed with a grin for her; it took one shaky moment, but Sayuri grinned back.

* * *

The night went on. Gifts were presented, nobles were introduced. Sayu kept an eye out for the politicians, the men who seemed like she would encounter in the future. Then, there was an actual time when retiring to the bridal chamber wouldn't be seen as too early; people were already leaving, giving their most gracious apologies.

So with a quiet breath and nothing more, she turned to Kouen.

"Kouen," She said softly. She lifted a sleeve to her face to mask the interaction, and she saw him lean minutely toward her.

Sayuri kept her explanation simple—"I'll retire now, if you don't mind."

He nodded.

"I'll tell the Emperor."

Despite herself, her mouth moved to smile at this. "Thank you."

* * *

Her walk, however, was accompanied by several other…people?

Sayuri fought back a scream when the first of them popped out from behind a pillar, and Davvid had moved to separate her from the "threat."

"A mighty fearsome face you got there, pal," Her bodyguard grizzled out, his grin stretched wide on his face, head cocked back. "If I didn't know you were part of the Crown Prince's household, I would've melted it right off your skull."

It was a man. Or at least—partly a man. He wore the white robes of a personal attendant, but had writhing snakes for hair. Live, actual _snakes_ , and his scowl did nothing to alleviate how murderous he looked.

"Princess," Davvid said. He looked back at her, smiling. "He's one of your husband's. A household member, and assimilated, by the looks of it."

"We were tasked with escorting the Princess," The man ground out, almost talking through his gritted teeth as he crossed his arms.

The magister was unmoved. He lifted a brow at the snake-man. "Tasked? I didn't hear anything. I think you're here to make fun of the Princess. It's her wedding night, after all."

"Davvid," Sayuri muttered, "now's not the time for a pissing contest."

He shrugged, barking a laugh. "I woulda' smoked him anyway, you know that."

The snake-man looked like he wanted to say something at that, but another shadow shifted from the hallway, joining him. They made quite the pair: a snake-man and a pig-man. The pig-man in particular seemed content to leer at her with his blackened grin, but when he bent forward and tried to get in her face, Davvid's hand—whose fingers crackled with glowing blue lightning—stopped him.

He straightened with a snort. An actual snort that wrinkled his human moustache and pig's nose.

"Still think you can smoke us?" The snake-man goaded at the magister, an equally cocksure, if not more feral, grin on his face. Sayuri rolled her eyes, but Davvid was at least too smart to be provoked like that, and instead shrugged carelessly.

"You must both be in Kouen's household," She said, eyes bouncing from one to the other. Her bodyguard had said something interesting— _assimilated._ Sayuri knew the bare bones of metal vessels and households, but she had no idea what it meant. Perhaps it meant a word for transformation; both these men were obviously, _well,_ different. She'd have to ask Davvid later. "Is there anything you need?"

"None, Princess," The snake-man said. But he reluctantly turned sideways with his arm outstretched, opening up the hallway for her. "We were just supposed to escort you."

She glanced at Davvid skeptically, but otherwise nodded.

The walk was mostly peaceful, though she overheard the not-so-quiet talk between her bodyguards.

Pig-man: "Where're _you_ from, huh?"

"Oh, the desert."

Snake-man, with doubt in his tone: "East of here?"

"Sure."

She could tell Davvid's evasiveness riled them, but he stayed joyfully oblivious. When they finally reached the bridal chambers, she turned to face the two new men.

"Thank you both," Sayuri said tentatively. She figured getting properly acquainted with these men would help, especially since she was presumably going to see more of them.

She looked at the snake-man, who appeared slightly startled when she set her gaze at him directly. "You're…?"

He blinked. Then he bowed, with his hands clasped together, in the Kou way. It made her uncomfortable—she hadn't exactly done anything to earn their respect, especially when they seemed to regard Kouen highly. "Li Seishuu."

She looked at the pig-man with the same question in her eyes. He was less surprised by the question, but he still bowed respectfully, "Gaku Kin, my Lady."

"Thank you both, then, Li Seishuu, Gaku Kin," She smiled at them, before disappearing into the doors of the bridal chamber with Davvid. Fuu was already inside with her clothes ready.

She was changed behind a screen, and soon after Fuu left.

Now she was in nothing but a sleeping robe and a very thin silk outer robe. Like her wedding clothes earlier, these were actually _hers;_ they were new and made especially for this occasion, but at least the style and fabrics were familiar to her, which were a small comfort.

She'd also insisted on letting her hair down, which Fuu had made a face at, but obliged. Davvid came back from one of the connecting rooms, scratching his head. "I, uh…warded all the entry points, put a few spells here and there. I can step out, if you want."

She took his offer, knowing he was tired and didn't want to make it awkward for her.

He slid the doors shut behind him again, and then she was alone.

The chambers were huge, at least, though she wasn't terribly surprised. It hadn't taken her very long earlier to realize these were Kouen's personal chambers—and how telling it was, the way her new husband's room was decorated.

"Husband," She uttered to herself, as if trying to get used to the notion. "Husband."

The weight of a new gold band on her ring finger was further proof of that.

She wandered around the rooms, having nothing else to do. She didn't know how, but they seemed like a reflection of Kouen: everything was neat, meticulously organized. The smaller room to the left seemed like a study: one wall was entirely outfitted with nothing but bookcases, one side of the room was filled by a great desk, several maps and scrolls stacked neatly on top. His writing implements were carefully tucked away in cabinets, and on the far side of the room was a large game board with a grid painted on. Two low chairs on the opposite side of this board indicated that it was a game for two.

She carefully traced the marks he'd left on another table—a war table. Her eyes followed the coasts of the Eastern continent, memorizing which provinces Kou had conquered. One, two, three, she went on as she counted, noting the troop movements signified by specific pieces. There was a battalion stationed here, a division fanned out over another region there.

Then there were those marks that tread over the sea, connecting Jishou's docks to several points in the empire. These were supply lines to be run by Jishouan ships—it was just another stipulation of Kou's, for the alliance to come through.

Sayuri had talked little to her actual family that night, but Nobushiro had been subdued (as all her family were, she observed). Was it because of the impending war campaign? Kouen had returned to Rakushou for the wedding, but also because preparations for it would hold him down in the capital for a month or two at the very least.

Sayuri's stomach had turned at the very idea that Jishou would be actively aiding Kou's military expansion via lending their naval power in supply runs; even if her father had refused to put any of their men on the ground, conferring some military help with their fleet was still something many Jishouan politicians hadn't thought they'd be doing.

 _But here we are,_ she thought with a grimace. It was just one of the things to be sacrificed for Jishou and the Triangle's greater pursuits, she supposed.

She turned away from Kouen's study, heading back into the bedroom. It was more maroon and olive green than crimson; despite the grand furnishings, little else decorated the room. Obviously, it was used even less than the study. She imagined her husband had spent most of his life outdoors, in a rigid, utilitarian tent—the stark opposite of her, who'd spent many a comfortable night in palaces or villas or on a ship.

The few indulgences he had, it seemed, were all related to war. There was a set of armor on display in the corner of the room, beside another desk; an old sword was laid on a rack on top of a chest of drawers, and a few helmets and headdresses hung on the walls.

That was how Kouen found her: examining one of the headdresses. She looked toward the door when he came in, already shedding the outermost layer of his ceremonial wedding robes.

He seemed surprised to see her standing there, the first real emotion she'd seen on him all day, no matter how small it was. He pulled his arm from his coat, folding it neatly but leaving it on top of his dresser.

Sayuri licked her lips. What should she say now?

 _We don't even need to consummate tonight because everyone knows I was a widow._

 _Are you experienced?_

 _What do you want from me, tonight?_

Instead she kept quiet, wanting him to make the first move, if it came to their consummation. She was certain this would not be his first time—as it wasn't hers. He would have no problem initiating it. Sayuri had no real plans of being difficult; she was his wife now, and her body, at least on this first night, would be his.

 _But there's no reason for us to jump straight to it, if we both know how it works._

So she asked him a question, idly wondering if he'd play along. She rubbed her fingers, fiddling with the heavy ruby ring he'd given her.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He'd sat himself on the bed as he was removing his boots. She looked at him, brows furrowed. This would be one of the few real conversations they'd had. Last summer hadn't afforded them many opportunities, and she hadn't really sought him out as a conversational partner, especially when she'd been fixated on Kuja.

And there was no true alternative to this anyway—it was either talk or have sex with him. She did not relish either, but the former seemed more palatable at the moment.

Kouen didn't even look at her. "Ask."

"There aren't any lions in this region of the world," Sayuri started. She thumbed at her ring finger, where both her betrothal ring and her wedding ring now sat. They were the only pieces of jewelry she had on her now; she'd simply been too tired to carry the weight of the rest of the gold. "But your personal motif is a lion. Why?"

He looked at her then, boots off, but most of his clothes still intact. And he stood, taking a step toward her. She resisted the urge to back away, instead meeting his gaze head-on.

He raised one brow at her. He drawled: "Why do you want to know?"

"It just occurred to me. Am I wrong?"

He turned away from her. "You aren't."

He began to shed the rest of his robes. Sayuri huffed, moving to help him.

He glanced at her when she did so.

The princess tilted her head at him, a slight smirk taking shape on her face. "You forget I've done this before."

 _The whole marriage thing._

Kouen batted his eyes, and continued disrobing. "Tell me about it," He said; he did not ask, nor request, of course, but it was a command, layered with his monotone voice.

The princess smiled, baring her teeth. "Only if you answer my question."

At last he was only in his underrobe, which was a plain white and made of cotton. Sayuri silently hoped it was Ariavatan cotton, because it would glide smoother against both of their skins later.

"Done."

They stood before each other. Sayuri considered him, as he did her—this close, with only a robe to cover him, she could see the sinewed shape of his muscles underneath, the angles his collarbones cut.

When she raised her eyes to meet his, he had an overly patient look that said, likely in an unimpressed tone, _are you done?_

Sayuri raised her own brow at him, silently shooting back, _are_ you _done?_

They were both well aware that they were only in their thin sleeping robes.

Kouen moved round the massive four-poster bed, and she sighed; she followed him, and while he sat and laid his head back on the headboard, she grabbed one pillow and hugged it to her chest as she lay on her stomach, observing him.

He took out his own hair ornaments, placing them on his sidetable and shaking out his hair. It amused her somewhat, to watch him do such a mundane thing.

 _Such a well-respected and illustrious man like the dread Crown Prince of Kou should have servants to do his every bidding,_ she internally mocked. Yet here the man was before her, married to her, stalling with her on their wedding night.

Kouen was probably only indulging her. "I had an uncle, the Emperor before my father. Hakutoku."

Sayu nodded. It made a lock of her silver hair get in her eye, so she lifted a hand to brush the offending strands back. Kouen watched her absently as she did this, but soon returned to his story.

"When he began conquering the western front, one of the first provinces to take notice was farther in the west; a province of cold mountains, valleys, and forests."

The thought made her curious. "How did they know?"

"Word of mouth," Kouen replied without hesitation. "We had few traders that narrowly passed all the way there, but when news arrived, their emir had immediately sent an emissary to Rakushou.

"His people were struggling, the past three years before were too cold for many of their products to be sold. They could survive, yes, but their existence was bleak and full of work. He asked Hakutoku for his help, saying if his soldiers could travel so hard and so long on their campaigns, then surely they could come so far west, and provide aid to his people. In return, they would become a province of the Kou Empire, and Hakutoku could use the land for outposts.

"It worked well in the end, helping us scout the provinces nearby. Once, the emir sent another emissary to express his gratitude, and I was there in the palace when he arrived.

"He presented many things to Hakutoku, among them one of the last remaining lions in Darrieh.

"I chose the lion as my motif because it symbolized a combination of diplomacy and an open acceptance of military might. The emir of Darrieh saw an opportunity to make the lives of his people better, and Hakutoku saw a tactical advantage. One works with the other to make things happen. One must never be without the other, if you hope to win."

He spoke like he always did, like this was another story for him, not the source of something so personal as his own motif. But apparently he was finished, and he looked at her blandly.

Sayuri dipped her head, avoiding his gaze. "Um, thank you for sharing that with me."

The nuances he'd picked from the story surprised her, especially when it came to his reasons for choosing the lion.

"You are welcome."

Now he was staring at her with slight expectation. She chuckled weakly, running a hand through her long hair. He'd asked her about her previous marriage—on the day that they got married.

The night would be memorable, if anything yet.

"I was fourteen when I first met him," She started. She lay down on her pillow, winding her arms around it as she dug up the memory from a decade ago and tried to lay it out as smooth as she was able, so she could tell Kouen. "He was as old as Shiro, so he was eighteen. It was summer when we met—Kuja was there too, because we always spent our summers together.

"Father was interested when Caera announced their intentions for a visit. He permitted their party to stay in Tohouku with us. Nobody had seen the Caeran royalty in years, but when the summer ended, I was suddenly betrothed, and expected to marry in three months."

She glanced at him, smirking. "Considering our unorthodox short betrothal and that this was my first marriage, you can imagine how clueless I was about what awaited me in Caera."

Kouen had been brief with his story, but it had sounded honest. She let slip one thing: "But I felt thrilled about it all the same, happy to be out of the court's eye. For the longest time, I wanted to travel freely and see the world, like my brothers always got to. I thought this was my one chance, because Caera had more ties than any country in the Triangle to the Western continent, which fascinated me."

Her eyes flit away to the side. "Obviously…it ended, one way or another. But I learned a lot of things. How to govern like a king would, for one. How to make connections, for another. When the marriage was over and I was in Jishou complaining about having nothing to do, the ministers were searching for their own trade ambassador to Caera. It was something I'd never studied before, having a million other things to worry about when I was Crown Princess.

"But I was the only person with political capital in Caera left. So of course they chose _me_."

Kouen was still listening. She smiled at this. "That's it."

"How did he die?"

"Forgive me, but I'll have to decline from answering." Sayuri shook her head, smirking. "Another time, maybe. Maybe when I have another question I'd want to ask."

Her husband sighed. Then he stood, putting out the candles one by one.

She did not follow him. Instead she just watched him do this other mundane action, but felt all the amusement drain out of her. So he intended to see this wedding night through after all—but what did she expect?

He was the Crown Prince. A discerning, calculating man. If they did not do this, the risk he'd taken to propose to her would've all been for naught. A consummation of the marriage was needed to make it legally binding, even if they couldn't prove it with her body. All they had were Kouen's words.

At the start of the night she had known she would give her body to him with no resistance, but their brief interlude of talking had drifted her mind away. It had been quiet, a break from the ruckus of everything else that transpired that day.

She bit back the disappointment she felt.

At last the final candle went out, and only the lanterns from outside their rooms illuminated the bed through the slats in the windows.

She sat up, dangling her legs over the side of the bed. It was still dim in the room, but she could make out the broad silhouette of Kouen coming up before her.

A warm hand brushed some hair out of her face, pushing it over her shoulder. The gentleness of the action made her smile a little; the hand stalled at its place on her jaw, just below her ear, and she leaned into the touch of her new husband.

Sayuri felt very tired. She thought Kouen was too, with all they had to put up with that day.

But he pulled her into his arms, and she let him.

* * *

The banquet was dying down, and all his sisters were tucked away and safe in their beds.

Or so he hoped—but Kouen was no brute. Nobushiro knew he wouldn't harm Sayuri.

He met Yuki out in the hallway. Shiro joked, "So, you can spare the time to go to Kou, but _Kuja_ can't?"

Forever on cue, his brother grumbled: "He's a magister, Shiro. He has his own things to worry about. Last time I heard, he went even further west than we did."

The Crown Prince of Jishou raised both his brows. "Really?"

"Yeah," His brother replied. "They've tasked him with something. I think they're making him find someone this time."

"Whoever it is, Kuja'll find him."

They talked some more, before returning to where they'd been before their mother and father called them away to tuck the girls in.

Koumei was still where they'd left him, reading some manuscripts in the moonlight by the balustrade. Yuki quickly joined him, taking up the cup of tea he'd left.

"Seems it's getting rather late, Koumei," Shiro commented as he leaned on a pillar a few feet away from the two. "Are you sure you aren't turning in soon?"

"No," their friend said with a shake of his head. "I can't sleep anyway."

Nobushiro understood the feeling. After all, it was his baby sister's wedding night. Who knew what she was getting up to—though he imagined it was not a lot. She'd never been too fond of Kouen.

"Koumei," He said again.

"Yes?"

He hoped the redhead was listening carefully. "You know, my sister, she's a fine workhorse."

The rustling of parchment stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Koumei looking at him sharply.

 _Good._

The older prince just looked at the sky, admiring the clarity of the stars in Kou. He wouldn't be forgetting this place any time soon. "She will do what you ask of her, and she will do it dependably."

Shiro sighed. "Just be careful she's the _only_ horse your brother keeps in his stable. She's already been married once. I'm afraid her good opinion once lost is lost forever."

* * *

Notes:

So, now that I'm well-rested, here are some notes on this chapter.

(1) The story about lions in Kou is somewhat based on how lions came to be in Chinese culture; lions used to roam Central Asia (where Darrieh is, in my mind), and foreign diplomats brought some lions to China once as gifts to the emperor. Also, there is a real difference between Chinese, Japanese, and even Korean chopsticks; I just wanted to highlight the similarities, as well as the differences between Kou and Jishouan culture.

(2) My family is part Chinese, and there are these really funny (and old, we're talking thousands of years old) bridal chamber traditions. I would've made Sayuri and Kouen be forced to play uncomfortably sexual games with each other by their friends and family, but alas this is Kou and nobody can take a piss without being deadass serious.

(3) There's a lot more people being vague, but since we're moving closer to the heart of the plot, all shall be revealed soon. Sooner, that is. I'll be very glad to listen to your speculations, theories, if you've any; regarding what went down in Sayu's old marriage, for example.

Married life is complicated, but now we have our newlyweds. Sigh. Thanks to everyone that's read so far, to all those who followed/faved, please leave your comments! This quick update is for all the people who've regularly reviewed and have had to put up with my rambling responses, it's always nice hearing back from y'all.

See y'all in the next chapter!


	12. Spring Pursuits

**12**

 _Spring Pursuits_

She woke first.

She'd become an early riser ever since she arrived in Kou, but it still came as a surprise when she opened her eyes and still found him sleeping beside her. Kouen was a soldier and a busy man. She'd half-expected to wake up alone.

But there he was, lying still on the mattress. Less than a foot away from her. Only soft rays from the slats in the windows before the bed illuminated his face in the pillows, and Sayuri blinked the vision of a dozing Kouen into clarity.

His chest rose and fell with every breath he took. Eyes shut, hair disheveled, face relaxed in sleep, the sight of him undeniably mesmerized her. Her vision could not stray from how different he looked, how at peace. Kouen always seemed distant and aloof, but here he was, appearing vulnerable, for once.

Last night had been a blur. She had no intention of trying to recollect all that had happened. The experience had not been unpleasant—and perhaps this was all she could bring herself to say about it—but it was not something she would seek out again, of that she had no doubt.

Dust motes danced above his maroon hair. The softness of his expression caught her: for this small moment his usually stern face was not pulled into a stoic mask, and even his mouth was slightly ajar, breathing softly.

Eventually she had to force herself up, her eyes blinking blearily.

The room was dim, though the morning light still seeped in through the closed windows. She must've gotten up earlier than usual—Fuu had already adapted their routines to the habit, but since there was no evidence of her having been in the room yet, Sayuri decided to ready the room herself.

So she stretched languidly, straightening her spine. It elicited a yawn, which she smothered with a hand; her long hair hung around her in tangles, and she combed an idle hand through it as she got out of the bed.

Her footfalls were quiet. She stood over the large bed for a moment, eyes trying to avoid where Kouen lay, but she couldn't; her hands moved, and before she knew it, she'd replaced the blanket, draping the rest of it on his side of the bed.

Then she got to work, padding away barefoot in her husband's suites. There wasn't much to do, as she figured out by slowly walking around Kouen's chambers; all there was was to figure out by what mechanism Kouen's windows closed. Eventually she sorted that out, and she slid the window coverings aside to reveal a fine wooden lattice that collectively offered a view of the courtyard leading to Kouen's wing.

Birds were singing quietly. A wind whispered through the grate, and Sayu sighed. She leaned her head on the window, eyes staring at nothing in particular as she listened to the sound of stillness, of the palace still mostly asleep.

"Sayuri."

Hearing her name, she lifted her head, eyes wandering to the bed.

Kouen was awake. He was sitting bedside, and something in the look in his eyes beckoned her.

Her feet carried her to him unwillingly, and when she sat beside him, she felt a lump in her throat.

"Good morning," She greeted, analyzing his expression. It felt fruitless, because he was inscrutable as ever, even as he was rubbing his eyes open. Softly, she continued, "did I wake you?"

"No."

He reached into his bedside table, where he pulled a drawer and retrieved a clothed bundle inside. He laid it on her lap. "This is yours."

She looked at him curiously, but did as he commanded.

The scene felt slightly familiar. Once, nearly a year ago, a similar scene had played out in Caera—silently, she undid the cloth bow, and underneath hid a maroon lacquered box, whose rectangular lid was decorated with spiraling gold dragons.

She slid the lid off, and the inside was a silk brocade kerchief cushioning a delicate silver hairpin, the end of which was decorated with a small azalea tree, its leaves made of jade. Above this, a silver crane perched, its two eyes glinting with emeralds.

Seeing it made Sayuri's head ache. After a year of wearing her hair up, she'd honestly planned to go back to letting it down. She hadn't had a wig made; as it turned out, it was rather hard to look for a suitable _silver_ -haired wig for her. Yet it would be no large task to wear this hairpin…sometimes.

But still. It was elegant and beautiful, and its design reminded her of her own hair ornaments. It made her look at Kouen questioningly.

"Did you select this?"

Kouen shook his head as he stood. "Koumei did. I told you to expect a second present for our wedding; the traditional time to give it is the morning after the consummation."

She almost admired the casual way he could speak about last night, as if his own marriage and its validity didn't faze him. Perhaps she shouldn't take it as a surprise: if he were searching for someone to keep his bed warm, it was a wife's lot to keep her lord husband company, but it was also a concubine's. Kouen was Crown Prince; he could have countless concubines, just like his father.

That was the way things worked in the imperial palace at Kou, she'd been told by Kyouya—there were wives and their lineages and substantial dowries for political maneuvering, and then there were concubines, women of lesser birth and wealth, for pleasure. The marriages were almost a formality, a convenience for two business parties.

Somehow, the thought relieved her.

She could not imagine having to be in his chambers every night, waiting on him like she was his servant. Her father had welcomed this marriage for a reason; she couldn't fulfill her purpose here if she were constantly worrying about pleasing Kouen.

 _Another day I thought would never come,_ she thought with a wry twist to her lips, _when I would be grateful for the existence of mistresses._

"Thank you, then. And I'll be sure to thank Koumei as well." She held back a grin as she said those words: in any case, she wasn't surprised that Koumei had picked it. It was a very thoughtful gift, paying attention to how it would flatter her appearance. She couldn't see Kouen willingly spending the time to give her something like a hair ornament.

It reminded her again of Kyouya's words: _the Crown Prince is a practical man._

True enough.

She observed her husband, eyes following him as he took his sword, still in its scabbard, in one hand and looked at her. "I'll be in my study."

It was an open-ended statement—it was not a silent command, but he was giving her leave to return to her own new chambers, if she wished. He was giving her that much, which she at least appreciated.

Then he disappeared. Having nothing else to do, she trailed after him, and she watched as he seated himself before his great desk, unfurling a large map of the world.

"Do you ever go anywhere without your sword?" Sayuri found herself asking as she leaned against the doorway. "Without all your metal vessels?"

"I take my sword everywhere," He glanced at her briefly, before returning his stare to the map in his hands. "If I have to, I leave my cape only where I know it will be safe."

She knit her brows. His black cape, with the gold lion pauldron, was currently sitting on his bedside table. "You must trust me, then."

"This room is secured by my household members, and while you stealing my metal vessels right now without me knowing is next to impossible, there would still be no benefit in that for you."

The matter-of-fact tone he used amused her. She'd been about to reply, when he added, after a moment's consideration: "Unless you're less intelligent than I thought you were."

Kouen had a funny, roundabout way for complimenting people. She rolled her eyes.

Her gaze caught the massive game board on one end of the room. She approached the thing curiously, commenting lightheartedly all the while, "You'd be surprised by what I could do with a metal vessel. Or—what the Magisterium could do. They're objects worth studying."

 _Such objects of great power,_ Kuja had said one time.

"But rest assured," She tossed a glance over her shoulder at Kouen. Sayuri was surprised to find him gazing at her like a hawk, but she tried her best not to show it. "You can trust me. On this matter, at least. I know metal vessels are meant to be personal to their bearers. That, and stealing things right from under your nose wouldn't be a very good way to foster a _harmonious_ marriage."

The princess then threw her attention back to the game board, examining the grid carved and painted on the oval table, envisioning how a game could possibly be played. Yet she could still feel Kouen's gaze burning holes into her back.

Sayu irritably blew a strand of her hair out of her face, trying hard to focus on the game board in front of her.

 _Stop staring._

She jumped when she felt her husband's presence right beside her. But when she turned to face him, she steeled her face in silent, stoic defiance, as if mocking his own taciturn manner: _what have I said this time?_

"Tell me," Kouen began, and the glimmer of curiosity in his eyes set her on edge a bit, "about the Magisterium."

"I've already told you about it."

"Then tell me about the Triangle," He said, nonplussed by her rejection.

Her husband was certainly a most curious man; Sayuri wanted to turn away from him and march straight out of his chambers. Except she didn't know where _her_ chambers were—by this time her household should've finished moving to Kouen's wing, but that didn't mean Sayu knew where her knew rooms were.

She looked at him. Tilted her head, gestured at the board to their side. "Play this game with me, and I'll tell you."

Kouen lifted a brow. It seemed to taunt her. "You will be occupied with playing the game."

"You underestimate me," She muttered. She sat down on the low armchair before one side of the oval board, folding her legs underneath her. "Shall we, then?"

Kouen sighed. But he followed, pulling a drawer open from another side of the table as he did so. He began to take out two bowls filled with small round stones; there were pieces in white and black, and Kouen handed her the bowl filled with the white stones.

She held one up to examine it, pinched between two of her fingers. The stone was weighty and smooth in her fingers, and she only glimpsed Kouen's impassive face staring at her in the background.

…And of course the game— _go,_ as her husband called it—was complicated, but Kouen took his time to explain it to her, patient as he went. It surprised her (many things Kouen did surprised her) but she listened to him earnestly when she realized this, and when they began their first game of go in seriousness, she scrupulously laid out another tale for him in return.

"The Triangle," She said, scanning the board, running her fingers over the smooth stone in her hand over and over again as she thought, "is no ordinary place, as you may know.

"The magisters have looked long and hard into the phenomena, and every time they come back with the same answers; there is something about the rukh, they say, that flows over the oceans surrounding our lands and seeps into our earth. The rukh from the rest of the world gathers in the Triangle, rukh from all manner of life…

"And the results aren't very consistent. In Ariavat, the rukh brews never-ending sandstorms. In Caera they make some volcanoes superactive. In Jishou they make the flowers bloom unnatural colors, and many other things.

"People from the Triangle are more in tune with the rukh, or so the magisters say," Sayu finished, assessing her position in the game. She honestly couldn't tell if she was losing or winning—but judging by the easiness in Kouen's manner, she was probably not doing very well. "It's what maybe makes the ability to control our rukh manifest more often in our people."

"Why you produce more magicians," Kouen hedged, "in simpler terms."

She nodded. She looked askance at him. "Satisfied?"

He did not answer. He seemed to be mulling over her response, but eventually, he dipped his head in acceptance.

"Thank you."

The honest response shocked her. She gazed into her husband's face, but he was occupied with taking all some of her pieces off the game board.

Sayuri blinked, and looked away for a second.

She smiled, despite herself.

"You're welcome."

At that moment, they both heard the doors to his chambers slide open.

"Princess?"

It was Fuu, probably bringing the morning tea. The thought made Sayu's stomach rumble, and the fact that Kouen looked at her questioningly when it did made the princess blush.

"In here, Fuu."

Her handmaid appeared at the doorway of the study, and though she tensed at the sight of Kouen, she dutifully nodded at both of them. She looked uncertainly at the tray in her hands.

There was no breakfast in sight—Sayuri had planned to eat with her family, later in the morning, because she knew they would be rising late—but there was at least her customary Jishouan teapot and matching cups.

"The desk," Kouen supplied tonelessly, when Fuu puzzled over where was appropriate to set down the tray.

"Care for some tea?" Sayu quipped as she stood and approached Fuu near the desk. She glanced back at Kouen, who nodded. The princess turned to smile a little at Fuu. "Thank you, Fuu."

"Did I come late? You've woken earlier than usual, Princess." She asked fretfully, pulling at her robes. Sayuri shook her head as she poured the two cups of tea. "W-Well then…we've finished moving all your things to your new chambers."

"Tell everyone to have the day off," Sayuri said idly, enjoying the warmth of the cup now in her hands. "That includes you, Fuu. We should all have time to enjoy Rakushou, now that we've all fully settled in. I think I'll manage with just Davvid and the few Kou maids today."

The words made a wide grin spread itself on Fuu's face. She bowed. " _Thank you,_ Princess."

Sayuri returned the grin. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

They were alone again when Sayu brought Kouen his tea, and her husband nodded his thanks.

Then he said: "Have you always risen this early?"

The thought frayed her concentration a bit as she focused on how to gain the upper hand in their game. "Ah, there was a time when…in Caera, I started this habit."

Realizing what she'd just said, Sayuri pursed her lips. She backtracked—"It happens, whenever I travel to somewhere foreign."

 _Not a whole lie,_ she sighed silently, _at the very least_.

Kouen looked at her peculiarly, but when she said nothing more, he wordlessly returned to their game. No doubt he was filing away that information for later, like he'd filed away the information she told him about her first marriage last night: to what purpose he was doing these things, she didn't know, and she could only guess at Kouen's motives.

When their game ended—with Kouen winning, of course—he stood up, and went back to his desk. Sayuri decided this was the right time to prepare for breakfast with her family, so she stood as well.

Kouen's voice caught her just as she was leaving his study: "Seishuu can bring you to your new chambers. Don't take too long. I will need him here in a while."

Sayuri silently thanked the fact that she was already out of his view when he said it. She blushed, having completely forgotten about _that._

* * *

Her family left for Jishou with little pomp and pageantry. Her coronation followed soon after, though it was much the same, with only the most important court officials attending it. All this happened very quickly, with Sayu only seeing Kouen intermittently, often in his wing of the palace, because her chambers were right across his. Only a garden separated them, and sometimes Sayuri caught sight of her husband in the mornings and afternoons.

He always seemed busy. His monstrous household members trailed after him dutifully, and he had few words to spare her when their paths crossed. Sometimes he would only nod, and Sayuri returned the gesture wordlessly, understanding that he was off again to see his war council, or to mull over reports with Koumei.

But now was also when her duties began in earnest: most of her days were spent with Kyouya. With her place in Kou solidified by her coronation as Crown Princess, she could begin maneuvering as a member of the court. She could informally take up the duties of trade ambassador, which was a role originally filled out by one of her acquaintances in Jishou, but now the job was better left to Sayuri.

Today they were looking at porcelain and the state of the soil in numerous Kou provinces, refining trade routes that intertwined and ended at the eastern Kou coast so the delicate china could be shipped to the Triangle. Nobles were always looking to spend their money on something pretty and expensive—and porcelain was a fascination with the upper class in Jishou, where clay pottery was widely used.

It was something that they would have to take over to the ministerial board of trade: the buying and selling of luxury goods by Jishouan traders required their approval. Kyouya had mockingly said that she could simply ask her husband, and he could sway the ministers for her—but that was the easy way out, and she wanted to prove herself capable of befriending some of the Kou aristocracy.

Besides: it was ironic, but she was acutely aware of how important Kouen's time was. She would rather not have to approach him about this, when she could do it herself.

"Ministers," She said as the servants swung open the doors before her. It revealed a gaggle of old men, poring over documents of some sort. They all stood at her entrance, and Sayuri graciously returned the gesture with a curtsy. "Good afternoon."

"I've come with the Crown Princess to discuss the transport of your pottery from Shanxi," Kyouya continued from beside her, "she will be a regular fixture in our meetings now, if you all are willing."

"I've brokered treaties with Jishou's minister of trade before, so I hope I prove knowledgeable enough to not interrupt negotiations," Sayu dipped her head, "but I know better than most that I am still young and have much to learn."

Her introduction was met with silence. She raised her eyes to find all of the old men, their mouths drawn tight, eyes steely. They looked at Kyouya. One of them spoke up, though his eyes were kindly, and he was a short, squat old man with a graying beard: "I know you've spoken of this before, Korechika, but this…"

He looked at Sayu. His eyes seemed to be conveying some kind of apology. "We mean no offense, Princess, but this is just not done in Kou."

 _Ah,_ Sayuri thought. _Resistance._

And here she was, thinking it was going to be easy, setting up some kind of agreement about taxes and levies and quotas: "Is it because I'm female?"

The bluntness in her question seemed to surprise all the old men. Sayuri shook her head—she'd run into this kind of gendered resistance before. Only, she'd gotten through it back in the rather traditional political circles of Jishou. "I've experience. Please allow me this afternoon to make my case, ministers, and if I am nothing but a nuisance, expect no more of me in future meetings. I only want what's best for both the Empire and Jishou."

The stoic, utilitarian method of persuasion seemed popular in Kou, so she'd gone for that. It was hard to argue with logic in any case, and while none of the geezers relaxed, they reluctantly nodded their assent.

So she and Kyouya took their places in the room, sitting together and unfurling the scrolls they'd brought. Porcelain was something hard for Kou to produce, and it wasn't something particularly easy to ship either; Shanxi and a few surrounding provinces produced a special type of pink porcelain that proved near impossible to find elsewhere in Kou, and the ministers seemed reluctant to trade with other countries, because they wanted to keep the method of its manufacture a secret.

She and Kyouya won in the end, however. The provinces where the porcelain was made weren't very rich, and a flow of foreign gold was something that could help improve their hardy communities, especially with the fact that Kou seemed to _perpetually_ be at war and continually sapped their villages of its workforce.

"We still need to keep its trade at a minimum, with a quota," The same rotund old man from before—a minister Choyian—said. "We do not want people to switch livelihoods because the porcelain will be more profitable. These provinces still need their farmers."

"We will confer with the trading companies, then," Sayu nodded. And then they moved on to other things. By the end of it, the old men were still unnervingly quiet, but they at least respectfully bid her goodbye, as they gathered up their books and papers and left the chambers as a group.

All but for one:

"Crown Princess," Choyian said. He had a warm expression on his grey-bearded face, which Sayuri was wary of. He'd nearly denied her attendance to this meeting with that same warmth in his eyes. "It is an honor to finally meet you in person."

She surreptitiously glanced at Kyouya, who nodded. So Choyian could be trusted—to an extent—though that didn't really alleviate any of Sayu's wariness. "Minister Choyian. I hope I didn't prove to be much of a distraction earlier, in your meeting."

"On the contrary," He said genially, which utterly confused Sayuri, "you were quite capable, Princess! Forgive my surprise, we just don't run into a woman so well-versed with our ways in court very often."

 _Of course not,_ she thought. _They're all busy jockeying for power as their husband's wives, or as concubines in the imperial harem._

There were only a select few paths open to a woman, Sayuri had eventually learned in her life. And it was only through the intervention of fate that she'd even been able to be something other than someone's pretty little wife.

"Thank you, minister," She smiled, baring her teeth. "You flatter me, but I've learned a great deal from this meeting alone. I look forward to the next meeting, so I may perhaps learn even more from you all."

Choyian returned the expression with a patronizing nod.

* * *

She was in the middle of reading something in the gardens when Kougyoku found her.

 _The Crown Princess,_ Ka Koubun had said, _likes to read in the gardens. This is your chance!_

In truth, she'd taken her sweet time before seeking her out again. There'd been something—something about her that gave Kougyoku pause, that made her nervous.

Even her family seemed intimidating: she had not intended to take too much time speaking to the royal family of Jishou during the wedding banquet, but she'd somehow ended up entangled between the Crown Prince, his only brother, and both the Second and Third Princesses.

 _Nobushiro, Nobuyuki, Nobuhime and…_

Their foreign names were long, hard to pronounce, and harder still to remember. But they reminded her of her own siblings, all of which were older and more important than her—like them, the Jie siblings looked like mirror images of each other from afar, except the closer she drew to the brood, the more she could tell them apart with their little differences.

It did not help that they were attractive with their silver hair and green eyes. The princesses had seemed kind enough, but they'd spoken in hushed tones to their older brothers, conferring about something Kougyoku couldn't figure. Both the princes were equally handsome, but the Crown Prince, who was tall, and with his short, cropped hair that he liked to tease with his long fingers—his malachite green eyes that were both distant and welcoming at once—he'd held her attention the entire night.

The memory of the exotic royalty of Jishou was burned into her mind, and it was this memory that was playing over and over again when she found herself walking up to the Crown Princess' corner of the imperial gardens.

Kouen's wife was sitting, a cup of tea in her hand, a scroll in another. Her long silver hair was let down that day, though she wore several silver hair clips encrusted with sapphires.

The Crown Princess' bodyguard—the one they called _Davvid,_ was standing at the edge of the pavilion, and he regarded Kougyoku with a large, scary grin.

"Your Highness," He half-bowed to Kougyoku. He turned back to Sayuri, "Princess, there's someone here to see you."

The informality of his announcement made Kougyoku knit her brows, though her attention was soon occupied by the Crown Princess setting down her scroll and her cup, turning to face the girl.

"P-P-P-Princess S-S-Sayuri," Kougyoku stuttered as she curtsied, and she silently berated herself for her nervousness. She hoped the Crown Princess hadn't noticed; she kept her head down.

"Princess Kougyoku," Strangely enough, Sayuri's tone was warm: "Please, join me, would you like a cup of tea?"

She raised her head. The Crown Princess was smiling, a hand extended at the space on the carpet before her. Kougyoku found herself nodding too much, barely stifling her shock at how easy it was to gain an audience with the older woman.

"I—I would be delighted, P-Princess!" She practically squeaked. The bodyguard was looking at her with some amusement, though he stood aside to let her into the pavilion.

She sat, trying to calm the beating of her heart. Sayuri moved to pour her a cup of tea, and Kougyoku watched the older woman's hands materialize from within her billowing sleeves, and they effortlessly reached for the teapot.

Soon enough, a steaming cup was in Kougyoku's hands, and she took a moment to admire the simplicity of the clay cup and its green glaze.

The Crown Princess said: "I must apologize, Princess Kougyoku, because the tea I drink is from my homeland, the Triangle. It is a brew from one of our countries—Ariavat, and made with honey, milk, and spices. Perhaps you might not find it to your taste. I can have Fuu bring another pot, if you want."

"O-Oh, it's no trouble," Kougyoku tried to wave off the older woman's concern, "I'm sure I'll like it."

She gamely took a drink to prove her point.

"A-Ah! Too hot—!"

"Here, let me— _ah!"_

Kougyoku sat back in horror. There was a brown stain on the older woman's robes, and even worse, a glistening patch of skin on the Crown Princess' collar bones was steadily turning an angry red.

" _Princess—_ p-please, f-f-f-f-forgive m-me! I didn't mean to!" Kougyoku sat back on her haunches, putting her head on the carpet before her.

 _As expected, as expected this would happen,_ she thought with a frustrated quiver to her clenched fists, _only to me, on the very day I decide to seek the Crown Princess._

"Princess Kougyoku."

"Y-Yes…?"

"Please, raise your head."

She lifted it, slowly, not wanting to see Sayuri's angry face.

But—the Crown Princess was only looking at her with a brow lifted. There was a smile in place as well, and she seemed to be smiling at _her,_ at Kougyoku.

"Well," The woman said amusedly, "that was certainly a first. Are you alright?"

There was still a burning to her tongue—and before she could reply, a blonde handmaid approached Kougyoku with a cup. She accepted it without a clue, and in it was some water bobbing with ice. She looked at Sayuri again.

"It's ice water, for your tongue," She said. "I hope it doesn't taste too strange either. My bodyguard, Davvid, is a magician. He made the ice. I've drunk it myself many times, so I promise it won't poison you…"

"T-Thank you," Kougyoku bit out haltingly, completely thrown off guard by the kindness in the woman's voice. Sayuri looked puzzled at her reply, but she just gestured for her to drink the cup.

"R-Right!"

She regarded the cup in her hand with some wonder. It unexpectedly reminded her of Judar, and summers in the palace. Whenever it was hot she could always find Judar producing his peculiar ice shards, and they'd done all kinds of things with the habit. Iced peaches, iced tea, iced water…

So she took a sip of the water. It had that taste she always associated with magic—that shimmering frost that disappeared as soon as she tasted a glimpse of it. Kougyoku found that she preferred Davvid's ice to Judar's ice; if that even made any sense. Davvid's was lighter. Drinking the water felt like drinking ordinary water, because it was less saturated with magoi.

The cool water brought relief to her burnt tongue. In a few moments, she took another sip of her teacup, and though she slightly recoiled at the sensation in her mouth, she also found herself agreeing to the flavorful milk and honey concoction the Crown Princess had brought her.

The aroma alone overwhelmed her senses. When she sipped, the drink was both smoky sweet and savory, but she could still taste the bitter tea underneath, and the milk added an extra dimension of creaminess to it all.

"This is great," She blurted.

The woman across her just nodded.

"I'm told Kou doesn't have much of a spice trade outside their own local ingredients," Sayuri uttered, taking a sip of her own tea. "There are more flavors out there, especially from Ariavat. We use a strong black tea for this blend, but we mix it with something we call cinnamon, among other things."

Kougyoku listened raptly.

"Would you like another cup, Princess?"

The girl nodded eagerly. Then she paused, remembering something she was supposed to say at the start of their audience, but had accidentally slipped her mind since: "Please, p-p-please call me Kougyoku _,_ i-i-if you wish, Y-Your…"

"Call me Sayuri, then."

The Crown Princess tilted her head at the petrified girl, a playful smile on her lips. "I would rather you not stand on ceremony with me. I am but a newcomer to Kou, and I've yet to earn anyone's respect, much less yours, Princess."

The familiarity in her tone reddened Kougyoku's cheeks. And the idea that she wasn't worthy of _her_ respect—it was preposterous. Kouen had chosen her and married her, and that alone should've been enough to earn anyone in Rakushou's esteem. Her older brother, the dread Crown Prince of Kou and General Commander of the Western Subjugation Army, did not just choose to associate himself with _any_ woman, after all.

"But— _you're_ Crown Princess…" The girl breathed, "…I cannot—it isn't—it isn't done."

"Funny," A wrinkle formed above Sayuri's brow. Kougyoku gulped at the sight, wondering if she'd gone too far with her comments. "You're the second person to say that to me. And your older brother Koumei was just as unwilling to relinquish these formalities, in the beginning."

At the mention of Koumei, Kougyoku bit her lip. The Crown Princess noted this, but she continued all the same: "Eventually, I wore him down. But evidently things work differently here in Kou. If you are truly uncomfortable with it, then—"

 _She wants to be familiar with me,_ Kougyoku's mind screamed, _what am I doing!?_

"It's…it's fine," The girl hurried to promise. When Sayuri looked at her curiously, she glumly glanced at the steaming teacup in her hands, her apprehension suddenly bearing down on her with all the weight of her worries. It occurred to her that she'd succeeded in nothing but confusing and embarrassing herself in front of the Crown Princess this entire time.

"I'm sorry. I just….it—it came as a—a…surprise."

"I'm sorry to have startled you, then."

Kougyoku's heart seized at that.

 _You're too friendly,_ she wanted to say, her mouth trembling earnestly, her fingers curling around her steaming teacup, _you're too kind to be my sister, to be the Crown Princess._

Kindness was a scarcity in Rakushou. And all of her older sisters had thus far been very cruel to her, and all the nobles eschewed her company because of the circumstances of her birth. The truth of it was sometimes the only people in the entire palace she felt she could talk to were Kouha and Judar, and even then they weren't around very often. She wished she could talk to all her older brothers, because Koumei and Kouen had never judged her for existing, but they were never there for her, and they seemed too distant, always too busy and important for her to be talking to them.

Some small part of her had dreaded seeking out the Crown Princess again because she was her sister now—and like all her sisters, she was beautiful, and she was above her in rank. Kougyoku had feared that she would rebuff her attempt at approaching her, repulsed at having to associate with her kind, like everyone in the palace was.

But the memory of Sayuri's smile for Kougyoku, hidden in the Bamboo Palace, had stirred something within her. That smile that had only been for Kougyoku, for _her,_ the lowly daughter of a street whore lucky enough to catch the Emperor's eye, had stirred hope in her, and she had secretly wished that the Crown Princess was as kind as she seemed to be.

And here her wish was.

"And you have nothing to apologize for, too," Sayuri said. She pushed a plate toward Kougyoku, winking. "If it bothers you so, call me Sayuri only in private. I'll do the same, for your sake.

"Now, are you hungry?"

On the plate were rice cakes, shaped like pale-pink chrysanthemums and white lotuses. When she hesitantly raised one and took a bite out of it, she made a little noise when she tasted juicy strawberry in her mouth.

"T-Thank you…"

Kougyoku blushed so hard she could feel her cheeks burn.

"… _Sayuri."_

The name was still very unfamiliar on her timid tongue. She hoped she hadn't pronounced it wrong.

"You're welcome to have tea and desserts with me anytime, Kougyoku," The way her name effortlessly rolled off Sayuri's tongue brought the smallest smile to her lips, and she nodded, heartened by the Crown Princess' encouraging response.

When Sayuri finished a rice cake herself and chuckled out of nowhere, the younger princess looked at her curiously. "By the way, was there something you had to tell me, before all this began?"

"Oh! Uh, n-no, I wanted to…" Kougyoku fumbled. She'd gone in search of the Crown Princess to 'see how well she'd settled in at the palace,' but it was admittedly an excuse to see her and curry her favor by flattering her and asking about her days ( _and_ _whatnot_ , as Ka Koubun would've said.) The girl tried: "…I wanted to…see you?"

Sayuri smiled. "That's kind of you. I haven't been visited by many people in the palace, so thank you. Thank you too for your gifts on the day of my arrival here, I very much enjoyed the duck."

Embarrassed, she bowed her head. She had the sneaking suspicion Sayuri was well aware of the fact that she'd simply been trying to gain her favor as well, but she obviously chose not to speak about it.

But Kougyoku wanted to be honest with her new sister, so she willed herself to look her in the eyes, and tried wholeheartedly to convey her affection when she said in return: "Y-You're welcome too, Sayuri."

* * *

Sayu had engaged in the services of a seamstress not soon after her meeting with the youngest Kou princess. It was only a matter of time, anyway, because she did not have many robes made in the Kou style—the spilled tea on her old robes was a matter of coincidence, and it'd only served to remind her to get some new clothes made.

She didn't actually _know_ any seamstresses yet, however, so she'd had to inquire Kyouya about it. He'd arranged everything for her, but when the time for the measuring actually came, she was surprised to find out that the seamstress was meeting her at _Kouen's_ chambers.

 _Kouen_. As in her husband.

She glared at Kyouya. "I hope this isn't your idea of a joke."

Her friend scoffed. "It isn't. Ruyi Qi is one of the seamstresses the imperial household keeps in their employ. She also happens to be the one your _husband_ seems to favor."

The way he said _husband_ with such venom almost lightened her mood. But—and here she wrinkled her forehead, as if she were contemplating a painful situation—"We haven't spoken in a while."

Kyouya looked at her with slight surprise. "Has he asked you in his chambers ever since your wedding night?"

"No," Sayu replied. When Kyouya continued staring, she asked, a little self-consciously, "What?"

"Nothing. I merely thought otherwise."

They continued until they were finally at Kouen's wing. Though technically—perhaps it could be called her wing as well, since she lived there too. Kyouya bid her goodbye, and left her to brave the measuring session alone.

She nodded at Seishuu as Davvid pulled the doors open for her. Bolts of fabric covered nearly every inch of Kouen's chambers when Sayuri stepped inside.

The seamstress was there, with her numerous assistants; of course, so was Kouen, without his cape for once.

"Ah, you must be her!" Ruyi cried with such excitement. She brandished a measuring tape at Sayuri like it was a weapon, and the princess had to fight the urge to take a step back in caution.

Too bad had Davvid insisted on staying outside.

She was surprised to find Ruyi was not a middle-aged woman, but someone only a few years older than her; she could be thirty at the very most. With the way Kouen had removed his cape and seemed used to her loud and exuberant manner, Sayu guessed that they were familiar with each other.

Ruyi looked like she was about to tackle Sayuri, but not before she stopped herself and curtsied deeply—her assistants silently followed her example. "Your Highness,"

"This is Lady Ruyi Qi. Qi, this is the Crown Princess Sayuri, from our eastern ally, Jishou." Kouen said from the other side of the room. He was buckling his belt, apparently finished with the measuring. He pulled on his cape with one swift flourish, "I've work to do."

He promptly walked out of the bedroom, disappearing into the study once again. Which left Sayuri truly alone with the seamstress, but she breathed the smallest sigh of relief when it happened.

Ruyi was examining her from head to toe with a critical eye. "Dear me, what is this fabric? And the style! Quite cylindrical, but rather elegant. Trust Kouen to find such a fashionable wife!"

She approached Sayu, pinching the voluminous sleeves of her robes and her wide sash. "Tell me, Your Highness, are these fabrics produced in Ji- _zhou_?"

Still. Initial caution aside, Sayuri couldn't help her amusement. "Yes, Lady Ruyi, they're made in _Jishou_. The central provinces near the capital, actually."

"Well I must pay a visit to your friend the ambassador! Korechika certainly ought to know how to convince a few companies to begin trading these. That, or he'd know how to book me passage to the east this instant! How marvelous."

The wondrous tone Ruyi employed made Sayuri smile. It warmed her heart to know that her excitement for the alliance between Kou and Jishou was earnest. Few people openly expressed such sentiments so plainly.

"I can certainly help you there, Lady Ruyi," The princess gently said, "I work alongside Ambassador Korechika to facilitate the trade of Jishouan goods to Kou and vice versa."

Ruyi clapped her hands. "Oh yes! My husband did say something about that. I ought to listen to him more, you know, but he's rather dull. Forgive my ignorance, Your Highness, but a seamstress is always distracted around such gorgeous silks."

Sayuri ought to have known that Ruyi was married. And to someone boring it seemed; she chuckled at the thought.

Ruyi got to work, and Sayu answered whatever eager questions she had, fashion-related or not.

"Do you find blue to your liking? It would be such a flattering color."

"How long is this sash of yours? It seems very long! How I would love for this to be in fashion here! Do your maids tie it for you? Are there other ways to tie this knot? Are these—oh dear, the padding!"

"How do you feel about flowers? Dragons? Or would you rather plain silks? I know this very good painter in Hanmo."

When all was said and done, Ruyi stepped back and grinned as wide as her face would allow her. "I have excellent ideas in my head! Promise me, Crown Princess, that you will visit my studio in the city, Korechika knows the address…"

Sayuri pretended to think about it for a moment. Then she returned the seamstress' smile—"Of course."

"Ah!" The lady clapped her hands together, "And here I was thinking I'd have to convince Kouen to bring you! Thank you, Your Highness!"

She was left to don her robes again, because Ruyi had made her strip to get her measurements; Fuu helped her as she went, and as she was tying the massive knot on her sash, Sayu pondered.

There had been a matter of interest that popped up whenever she went to her meetings with Korechika and the trade board. When she went to bed at night, it stayed on her mind; it was nothing truly important—as of the moment, anyway—but now that she was here…

The princess nodded at Fuu as she stepped out of the room again. Sayu padded silently to the study, where she knew her husband would be—

There he was, of course. Brush in hand, a report in the other. Sayuri felt this would become a regular sight whenever she would choose to seek him out. He did not stop his work as she approached him, and she stopped in front of his desk, fully intending to wait for him to acknowledge her.

Eventually he got the idea and put his brush down. Kouen looked at her questioningly, but still gestured for her to sit. She shook her head, a smile playing on her face.

"I…have a request."

* * *

Notes:

Not very romantic, I know. But Sayu and Kouen don't really know each other so...it shall be remedied in the next chapter. :-) This one's sort of a filler, with some side characters we'll see again in Kou.

(1) Since the plot allows it, I poked some fun at Kouen's fashion's sense, with the hairpin and the seamstress; he seems rather fastidious about his appearance, given that he wears such complicated robes on a daily basis.

(2) I know that wives of important noblemen would normally be more concerned about mistresses and concubines, but this is Sayu and Kouen we're talking about here. More on this in later chapters.

(3) Kougyoku's POV implies that she talked to the Jie siblings at the wedding banquet; that night's events is something I want to explore in another side-character's POV, but since it's not _truly_ important to Sayu's story and adding that POV in would've been confusing for chapter 11...I'm posting it later, as a oneshot.

(4) So about Sinbad: it's chapter 12 and he's still not here, I know, I'm sorry. Actually I've taken to writing the chapters differently, because in general the plot's moving at a much slower pace than I like. But he'll be in the fic, with his own role to fill and his own complicated arc, I promise.

Next chapter: the royal couple does couple-y things (fluff? Kouen's POV? find out ), the rest of the Kou crew, and, well, shenanigans. It'll be up soon, too!

I want to give my humblest thanks to the people who've taken the time to write trifling old me a review; I love reading and responding to them, and they're great motivation to get the next chapter out sooner. To everyone that's put this fic on their faves/alerts list, thank you as well, and I hope you decide to stop by and write me about how this fic is so far!

I want everyone's honest opinion about the plot, the OCs, the interpretations of canon characters, the writing, everything about this fic, because I'm constantly trying to refine and make this fic better for you, the readers, as well as my own sake. Constructive criticism is welcomed, and I really mean this wholeheartedly. I'll be glad to take up your suggestions and opinions!


	13. Where Should We Begin?

**13**

 _Where Should We Begin?_

Hooves thundered, and the sun beat down on her back; she was going dangerously fast, she knew, but she couldn't help it; not when the back roads were so smooth, and the rolling green hills stretched out so welcomingly before her.

Sayuri lifted a hand to wipe off the sweat that had gathered at her brow, other hand holding steady to her reins. Just behind her a few paces, a man called out over the sound of her wooden chariot barreling down the path, "Slow down! You're going to hurt yourself, you idiot!"

The princess openly laughed in reply. She continued to guffaw as she spurred her horses on faster, reaching up every now and then to fix the gold diadem holding her hair back.

At last she reached the orchards, and as she hopped off her chariot to let her horses rest under the shade of an olive tree, she pulled the extra fabric of her linen chiton back into her leather girdle.

Her companion neared her, and she fussed with her jewels and her diadem, making sure everything was in place. "I still don't understand why I can't wear such a short tunic like _you!_ I might trip on it one day, since it's always so long!"

He alighted from his own chariot, his horses stopping a bit more smoothly, giving away how rigorously he'd trained them, as well as how great of a rider he was. His own diadem was glittering gold in the sun, but he ripped it off his chestnut brown hair to wipe at his own sweat as soon as he dismounted.

The look he was giving her indicated he was annoyed. He stormed up to her, crown still in one hand, "You could've lost your grip and flown off! What did I say about going too fast?"

Sayu looked at him as innocently as she could, but she had to bite back a few laughs and tried not to grin too widely—she had gone so fast because she'd known he would overreact. "And then what? Would you have _missed_ me if I were gone, Alexander?"

The prince crossed his arms, shaking his head with exasperation. But he too was smiling begrudgingly, which made Sayuri giggle. She plucked his crown from his hands, going up on her tiptoes to replace it delicately on his head.

"The reason why you can't wear a tunic like mine," He said as his chestnut brown eyes watched her set his crown, "is because you're not a chariot racer like _I_ am, Sayu."

He stuck his tongue out at her. She laughed at his bad excuse for not letting her wear a shorter chiton like he did.

"One day I'm going to dearly regret teaching you how to use a chariot…"

* * *

Sayuri woke with a shiver.

It was still grey in her new chambers, and she stared up at the ceiling of her rooms in the imperial palace, trying to recount as much as she could from the dream.

She remembered only the feel of the wind on her face and the sun on her skin. The rope burning through her fingers, and the delicate and cool metal of their crowns that followed.

And then: the smell of a Caeran orchard in the height of summer. The sight of her dead husband's face smiling at her as if it were five years before.

"Six years before," she said to herself quietly.

So it was happening again.

Sayuri sat up from bed, yawning. It was rather early—perhaps a half-hour before Fuu usually came with tea and her breakfast—and sighed, tossing her sheets aside and getting up from bed. She opened the windows herself, and suddenly her room was flooded with light from outside, and the whispering wind that passed through the lattices.

She stood stock-still in front of her windows as she absently let her mind run.

In retrospect, it had been a long while since she last dreamed of him, but it was not entirely unexpected. She'd been thinking of him, what with this new marriage to Kou and all, and the memory of him had simply been unavoidable. Of course he would follow her into her dreams; where once he dogged her in her nightmares, at least in this moment he'd been there in a pleasant—or so she thought—dream.

Her night visions often blurred memory and fantasy, so she could never trust herself in thinking that what she saw in her sleep was something she'd in fact experienced. It made her all the more confused come morning.

But today she was tired, only having it in her to breathe one wistful sigh.

Then Sayu yawned again, stretching. She figured she may as well go for an early morning walk to shake off her grogginess.

* * *

That same morning, after returning from sword practice and a bath, he spotted her leaving her chambers.

Normally Kouen would return to his study to look over all the reports he hadn't finished in the night before; he was always brought a fresh pile later in the morning, and he preferred to comb over every account of the military operations happening under his command if he could help it. He erred on the side of caution that way, readily able to recall and analyze whatever was and wasn't happening on the western front.

But seeing Sayuri out so early, still in her sleeping robes and without the usual crowd of attendants following her no less, intrigued him. Few in the palace would be awake right then—and that was indeed why he'd chosen this time, to devote himself to practice using his sword—and he didn't see much of her anyway, under ordinary circumstances.

In short it was an anomaly. A curious anomaly, because if he knew anything at all about her, she was organized and efficient; she would prefer to stick to routines, like he did, so as to maximize her time. Seeing her while on his way back was not routine.

He paused in his step, regarding Sayuri's retreating back oddly.

"Sayuri."

Her curtain of silver hair swayed as she stopped. She tossed a glance over her shoulder, and indeed Kouen could read the sleepiness in her expression, as she squinted her eyes at him tiredly. She turned on her heel.

"Oh, Kouen, it's you." She paused for a moment, as if her brain took more time to process such simple things as morning pleasantries when she was fresh out of bed, "Is there…anything you need?"

The woman yawned. She tried to hide the action with the sleeve of her sleeping robe, but it was too short and not wide enough, unlike her usual robes.

Sayuri ended up looking rather silly, but Kouen could not mistake the signs of the lack of sleep in her eyes that morning.

"You should be in bed." He uttered.

She shrugged lethargically. The action was so unlike her usual alert self that he blinked upon seeing it. It reminded him a bit of Koumei: "I would normally be up in less than half an hour; if I go to bed now, it would be little more than a nap. That, or I'll end up sleeping in."

And she couldn't afford to waste those extra hours; Kouen knew she was working with the trade board. They were at an impasse.

"Your request," He suddenly said. "I can help you now."

Kouen would have to put off reading those reports, but this way he would be able to spend some time with her.

Her, Sayuri, his _wife—_ the woman who was working diligently to strengthen trade relations between her previous homeland and the Empire. Or so that was the ministers alluded to, when he happened to meet with them; they were all rather surprised by her seriousness in regard to the projects.

Sayuri's face scrunched in concentration, as her brows knit themselves together and her forehead wrinkled. Then it came to her: "Ah! That,"

She smiled. It was a simple, sly smile. It was small, and the twinkle in her eyes as she regarded him made him pause. It rid her face of all traces of sleepiness, and Sayuri tilted her head in that teasing fashion of hers: "Are you sure? I know you've much to do."

Kouen shook his head, and started walking in her direction. "We may as well do it now."

Her eyes trailed him as he passed. "If you say so."

She caught up to him with a quick step, smile still in place as they walked silently side by side.

* * *

He led her to the imperial archives, in accordance to her request the previous day. By then the sun had fully risen and a soft gold glow filled the massive library; still, he took her through the shelves slowly, knowing she would want to come back here after their visit, allowing her time to memorize the path.

No one else was there, not even the few magistrates he knew that regularly made the imperial archives their abode—truly, only he would be here at such an hour.

And Sayuri, now that he'd brought her. He glanced at her through the corner of his eye, watching her regard the cavernous room with slight awe. Her hair was still mussed from sleep and so were her rumpled sleeping robes; she'd only thrown on a thin silk overcoat, but other than that she was still very underdressed, if anyone were to find them here.

As he stopped at the section where she would find what she was looking for, he cleared out the two desks of some scrolls that had been left there by a previous reader.

"Wow," Sayuri remarked as he sat down. She ran a finger over all the scrolls and books gathered in the shelves. Some of the reading material were still in simple bamboo strips bound together, instead of paper; the annals in Rakushou was still in the process of transcribing everything into scrolls and books, because there were always new additions being made to the archive every day, and the collection of works gathered was nothing if not extensive.

"This is amazing," She turned back to him, earnest wonder making her eyes go wide. "I wouldn't have thought the archives would be so filled, especially with the empire being young."

Kouen observed her, boredly placing his chin in his palm. "The previous emperor thought it pertinent to record the happenings in court, and to compile knowledge into one library in the capital. Hence, this."

"Still," Sayuri said as she pulled out one scroll. She unfurled it before both of them, and her eyes moved swiftly up and down the text as she continued: "the amount of detail in this account is stunning. I hope everything else is like this."

She joked as she gave him a passing glance: "Your historians must be very pleased."

He nearly scoffed. "Koumei and I have been continuing the former emperor's tradition of compilation. They should be."

Her lips twitched at his matter-of-fact reply, but she turned her back on him again, and she went on to pull out more of the archived materials.

Kouen watched her grab every single thing that seemed to pique her interest, and he wondered if she intended to spend the entire day in the archives alone. When she settled in the desk across him, she lifted a brow at him curiously. "Is there anything else you wanted to show me?"

"None."

When she seemed finished with laying down all the books and scrolls she'd gathered, he stood and walked toward her desk, to examine her haul. She noticed this as she opened a new map and an old shipping manifest from one of Kou's main trading ports. Conspicuously, she unfurled both those scrolls to let him view them as well.

He could fathom what it was she was doing. When she'd approached him yesterday, she'd said she wanted anything the imperial palace had in its archives about all of Kou's docks, and any documentation of previous laws regarding the buying and selling of good in the Empire—thus she'd asked him if he knew where she could find those same documents.

Kouen had been curious about what she'd intended to do, which was why he'd agreed to her request. Seeing her sit there, fingers trailing over the map of the Kou Empire and reviewing the shipping manifests, he knew she wanted to familiarize herself with the lay of the eastern continent, as well as the history of Kou's trade.

It was pleasing, almost, to see her serious about her position as Crown Princess. It reaffirmed his belief that she would be useful as his wife, though he had never doubted it.

"Thank you," She said, and he returned his absent gaze to her, sitting before him. There was the smallest of smiles tugging on her lips, almost as if she was reluctant to express any more happiness whenever she was in his presence. Sayuri was staring at him with her pale green eyes, "by the way. I had the mind to ask Koumei to lead me here, but he's been very busy lately, it seems."

He raised his own brow at her. "Is my time any less precious?"

She laughed. It was surprisingly hearty—it wasn't a giggle or a chuckle, but a bellied _laugh_ —and in the silence of the archives, the sound echoed in his ears. "No, but I trusted you to manage your time more wisely."

Kouen closed his eyes, sighing. That assessment of his brother's habits was razor sharp, to say the least.

"Besides…" He glanced at her, and she was looking off to the side, evidently pondering something. "...I wanted to go to the archives with as little suspicion as possible. Seeing the Crown Prince and Princess enter together would be innocuous, compared to me—a foreigner—entering alone."

"No trouble would've risen from you browsing the archives alone. You are free to roam the palace," Kouen pointed out, "as you are my wife. That alone should merit you the respect of everyone in Rakushou."

She seemed to mull over his words, which puzzled him. It was a simple fact: he would not tolerate any kind of disrespect, especially when it came to the woman who now shared his home and his name.

Then—just as he was about to say this—Sayuri nodded, eyes downcast. "I suppose so."

The princess wordlessly returned to her reading.

With his mind made to leave, he bid her one last reminder: "I expect to see you tonight."

At this her head snapped up. She regarded him with wide-eyed alarm, which surprised him.

"I…that is…"

Sayuri glanced away from him, lifting a hand to her cover face, and only then did he realize she, along with the tips of her ears poking out of her silver hair, was turning an unhealthy shade of _red._ It was an almost-mumble that came out of her mouth eventually: "…Of course, husband."

She was acting like he was holding a sword to her throat and forcing the words out of her mouth. It confused him—in truth he should not even be confirming her attendance for tonight; he would've thought she was mindful of fulfilling her other duties as Crown Princess.

He'd never seen her so flustered. He narrowed his eyes at her puzzling behavior, had he been wrong about her? "The Emperor and the Empress, as well as the rest of the imperial family, will be there. So you must attend."

At this point, Sayuri blinked.

Then she said, mostly to herself, but Kouen overheard: " _Oh_."

For a while, silence reigned.

She nodded at him, her cheeks still pink. "Yes, I'll be there. Will we be heading to the banquet together?"

"We will," He still looked at her skeptically, wondering if there would be any more lapses in her usual behavior.

Sayuri seemed embarrassed at his staring. She bowed her head. "Alright then."

It would only occur to him later in the day, in the middle of a war meeting, that perhaps she'd actually misread his words—and her reaction to it had made him question, but not enough to break his concentration, as he listened to one of his generals drone on.

* * *

Kouen waited for her in front of her chambers. Standing in front of the large and grand sliding doors was her bodyguard—the man she called by his given name, Davvid _._

A _magister,_ from the east, the Triangle. Caera, to be exact: and that was all Koumei had to speak upon the matter, which was to say, everything Sayuri had to speak with his brother.

The Crown Prince regarded him. He was a hulking man, tanned, scarred skin packed with muscle, though at the moment he was wearing the white robes of an attendant, and had crossed his arms. He carried no weapon on him, and he'd bowed respectfully enough when Kouen passed—but he was not afraid to look him in the eyes, much less grin at him like an idiot.

Davvid stood, silent. Still he bared his teeth, looking to all the world a man at his leisure, even if he was currently guarding Kou's Crown Princess. Kouen simply paid him no more mind: he was here to pick up his wife.

The doors slid open, and Sayuri appeared, wearing a crimson and white hanfu. Her hair was pulled into another elaborate hairstyle, piled high with metal hair ornaments, and his eyes easily caught her slight discomfort from the way she rolled her shoulders.

She smiled first at Davvid—then she turned to Kouen, her expression mild.

They walked silently together, like they did that morning, the both of them leading their retinue through the maze that was the imperial palace, and soon it was only the two of them being introduced at the banquet, with everyone else—nobles and officials alike—stopping to bow low at their arrival.

He offered his hand to her, and she took it; he led her to where they were seated with the rest of the imperial family, with no interruption. He settled at his place beside the Emperor, and Sayuri was seated beside him, with Koumei at her right hand.

The banquet started.

It went as all banquets did—all the while Kouen picked at his food, tiring steadily of feigning interest in the festivities.

Somehow, at some point in his boredom, his gaze had strayed to Sayuri, sitting at his side.

She had shifted closer to her right, one shoulder dipped and chin tilted downwards, her ear lent to Koumei; they were speaking quietly, tones hushed and mouths hidden by the wideness of Dantalion.

Yet: there was that teasing glint once again in Sayuri's two eyes like jade stones, the intrigued tilt to her brow, the wrinkle in her forehead as she listened to something Koumei intimated to her. Even the one eye that was uncovered by his brother's messy maroon fringe was narrowed wickedly, like the secrets they were passing each other were great things that could wholly ruin the lives of men.

Kouen lifted a single brow as he watched his wife chuckle quietly at something she'd heard. When the two of them parted, Sayuri straightened her robes with a small grin, and Koumei returned to nonchalantly sipping at his tea.

Honestly—they were no better than a pair of fishwives, and whatever _fascinating_ conversation they shared was of no interest to him, but he did not miss the way they'd become familiar with each other. Koumei had gone to Jishou nearly two months ahead of him, but Kouen hadn't expected him to become good friends with the royal family.

There was no use dwelling on it now. Kouen focused on the two latecomers to the banquet; his eyes caught their figures sidestepping to their portion of the dais, after apologizing to the Emperor and Empress for their tardiness.

"Hakuei," He called, gazing at the young woman bowing before him. It was a habit she'd formed and never dispensed of, even after all these years—she insisted on the formalities, and Kouen had long ago learned to stop being irritated at it.

Beside her, Hakuryuu bowed. He was even more unfailingly polite (and stubborn) than his older sister. "Prince Kouen. Prince Koumei."

"It's a long journey you've made," Koumei commented, eyes flitting briefly on each of their cousins. "It is good to see that you've made it back in one piece."

Both of them straightened from their bows, and a smile Kouen knew to always be genuine alighted on Hakuei's pale face. "It's good to be back."

The smile faltered for a split second as her blue eyes glanced at the woman sitting between him and his brother. He too looked to his side, and found Sayuri curiously regarding Hakuei.

The words were admittedly still unfamiliar as they left his mouth. "This is my wife, Sayuri Jie."

She bowed again, Hakuryuu silently following suit. "It is an honor, Crown Princess."

"The honor is mine, Princess Hakuei," Sayuri's voice sounded from beside him. The tone was warm, but subdued; as if she were cautious of Hakuei and testing what kind of person his cousin and step-sister was. She need not have been so wary—though that was the way she was, calculating as he gathered his wife to be—because Hakuei was nothing if not (almost excessively) kind.

He gazed at Sayuri. There was a curve to her lips, and Kouen saw it as one of her miniscule smiles. She dipped her head, saying quietly, "I've heard many tales of your valor and sacrifice on the battlefield."

Kouen did not peg his wife to be the type to hold much regard for military exploits, but when she spoke to Hakuei, she seemed sincere. Even Hakuei was shocked at the unexpected praise, and she recovered eventually, her own smile broadening on her face, "T-Thank you, Lady Sayuri."

Hakuei gestured at her brother, who'd been inquisitively watching this exchange. "This is my brother, Hakuryuu."

The expression on Hakuryuu's face could only be described as mild, though in his wide blue eyes did he show signs of being more curious about Kouen's new wife, now that she'd received Hakuei so warmly.

* * *

"She is a lovely woman,"

The night went on, and though the banquet eased into something a little more informal and Kouen was free to leave his seat, it did not ease the restlessness he felt at parties. His mind tended to wander, thinking about all the things he could be accomplishing, instead of wasting his time at an occasion such as this; it was unfortunate that he could only skip so many of these banquets, before the court noticed and bothersome rumors would spread about his absences.

Kouen had no idea what she was talking about. Belatedly, he glanced at her. It was only her and a select few other people that he would allow to be near him while he was distracted: "Who?"

"Her," And Hakuei smiled a little impishly, eyes silently drawing to a figure at the far end of the hall. Kouen followed lazily, though he knew instantly who she was talking about when he saw her.

Sayuri was talking to someone. Countless tables and platters full of food and cups of wine and chattering nobles separated them, but Kouen could still see; his wife was so noticeable, with her gleaming silver hair and the way she held herself, tall and proud; but she liked to tilt and lean, to tease.

At least—to him she was so noticeable. Kouen looked back at Hakuei, wondering what was the matter.

"I said," She continued in her light tone, "that she's a lovely woman."

There was simply no use denying it; any fool with a pair of eyes in their sockets could see that Sayuri Jie was lovely.

He questioned, feeling impatient: "And?"

"Somehow, I'm not very surprised that she was your choice." Hakuei spoke, and her voice had turned wistful, which confused him slightly. "She seems to be enjoying the banquet, at least."

They both focused on Sayuri at her words. She was gesturing, as if in the middle of telling a story, a smile on her face; Kouen recognized only then that she was speaking to Kyouya Korechika, the Jishouan Ambassador, and the man that had proposed to her twice—and twice to no avail, if he recalled correctly.

If he also recalled correctly, the Jishouan people were fond of banquets. Raucous ones, to be precise. Kouen just sighed. "It is a trademark of her people. They're noisy at occasions."

"I'm sorry to not have been able to make it to your wedding," She said in reply. Hakuei's oval face looked at him with earnest regret, "I'm sure it was a great event. One more than worth attending."

 _Great_ was one way to put it. Kouen had simply gone through the day, as his marriage to Sayuri was another duty he had to bear.

All he said was, "You've nothing to be sorry for."

* * *

Yet still: the banquet was too somber for her tastes, but Sayu made the most of it, tasting all the dishes Koumei pointed out to her, and later in the evening affably greeting whichever noble that dared to introduce themselves to her without her husband's company.

A highlight of her night had been meeting the famed First Princess of Kou—a title she still retained, even if Sayu was now Crown Princess, and thus was above her in station—who she'd heard to be a great beauty, and an even greater swordswoman. And Captain Hakuei did not disappoint; Fuu had whispered to her that she was returning from settling a minor skirmish on the northern border, bringing along with her a company of soldiers she commanded and her actual blood brother, the Fourth Prince of Kou, Hakuryuu.

The princess had been kind enough, smiling more in their short exchange than Kouen in the entire time Sayu knew him. She smiled easily at both Koumei and Kouen, and they treated her familiarly as well. It was not exactly a surprise to begin with, knowing that the Ren family was tight-knit, more so where their war campaigns were involved.

And Hakuryuu—the silent thirteen year old obstinately staying by his sister's side—had drawn some of her interest, but he'd disappeared as soon as their introductions were over, and Sayu thought no more of him.

There would be time yet to acquaint herself with the rest of the imperial family.

 _Besides,_ she thought as she tipped her head back to sip her bitter tea, _it's not as if I'll be leaving Rakushou any time soon._

She bumped into a few of the lords that comprised the ministerial board of trade, who stuck together even in their leisure time. She'd observed very early on that all of them took their jobs very seriously—and the level of devotion the Empire inspired in its subjects had both awed and frightened her.

Kyouya had been invited to the banquet as well, and seeing his stoic visage amongst the cluster of unfamiliar ones put a smile on her face. He appeared bored at the party, but soon enough joined her in a conversation about what she'd discovered that morning in the imperial archives.

"The archives are quite large, and it seems the Kou people are very thorough in their compilation and record keeping," She was narrating, reaching for a plate of tea dumplings that Kyouya automatically ushered towards her, "so it was easy for me to find what I was looking for. I'm shocked with the state of some of their roads; the only highways built in recent years seem to be regularly used by the army."

"And you're sure," Her friend replied, skepticism laced in his tone, "about the troop movements? That they occupy the roads all year round?"

Sayuri wrinkled her nose. "I'd have to ask someone about it."

Her mind had automatically jumped to _Kouen_ because he was, after all _,_ the general of generals, the man at the tip of the spear that was the Kou Empire's military. But she refused to say his name out loud, knowing Kyouya was thinking along the same lines as her.

"I'm not sure what you want to do. It's not our problem the imperial highways are shoddy. We've already reached an agreement with the ministers; Kou will handle transport between provinces. The Jishouan trading companies will handle transport across the East Kou Sea."

It was almost true. Except… "Maybe it isn't our problem. But there will certainly be the occasional delay in the delivery of goods, and you know it."

That was liable to happen; and _occasional delay_ was putting it lightly. There were many roads in Kou that hadn't been improved upon in the last five decades: mountain roads, dirt roads, mud roads all in a poor state were prone to harrying traders trying to deliver their goods. At the very least it would make trade difficult, and at the worst it could even discourage it.

Sayuri imagined a porcelain merchant and his wagon making their way down a steep, rocky mountain path; one bump and all his expensive wares would be sent tumbling down the cliffside, and now the merchant would be in debt.

It was not ideal.

"What do you propose, then? Writing a report to the Emperor? Petitioning for funds to renovate the imperial highway, with the war still ongoing?"

She wrinkled her forehead, knowing it sounded ridiculous. "Well…" She mumbled, "it's something I thought the trade ministry should know, at the very least."

They weren't going to like it, though.

Kyouya said as much; Sayuri knew that if they—a pair of foreigners—reported their concern, it would come as an insult to the board, implying that they were so incompetent that they hadn't noticed something as obvious as the condition of their own trade routes.

And if she knew one thing for certain about the people of Kou, it was that they all clung to their pride. The trade board hardly stomached the presence of a woman in their meetings at first, what more if that same woman suggested they'd been overlooking something as important as the empire's infrastructure this entire time?

Thinking about it made Sayu's head ache. There would have to be a way to work around this problem; she just had yet to find it.

They moved on to lighter topics, and Kyouya commented on her new _hanfu;_ she said it was a creation of Ruyi Qi's.

"Though I haven't been to her workshop yet," She added thoughtfully.

"I'll take you one day." The raven-haired man said in reply. Placidly, he ate another dumpling. "Perhaps next week."

Their attention moved to the side of the hall, near the front, where a great number of eyes were also pointed at. Seated at Kyouya's table, she could not see much of whatever it was everyone else in their area seemed to be watching.

Sharp peals of laughter broke through the whispers.

Sayu watched Kyouya tense, as he studiously tried to act nonchalant, but it was obvious that the boisterous guffawing bothered him.

Sensing her stare, her friend clenched his jaw. "It's the oracle," He muttered.

Her eyes widened. The oracle of Kou, the _magi,_ in other words _—_

Her gaze flit over to Davvid, standing in the background. His arms were crossed as always, but he too was glancing over his shoulder to the source of the thus far unending laughter, expression as if he were trying to assess the situation.

Feeling curious herself, she looked back. The crowd had parted itself somehow, but soon another person emerged through the divide, a person she knew all too well. He seemed to be heading straight for their table, and Davvid drew himself from the shadows, waiting steadfast by her side as she smoothly stood.

"Minister Choyian," She greeted, and she'd fought to keep the interest out of her voice.

Hearing her words, the short man blinked, and looked up at her. His expression told it all; he'd clearly not been thinking about where he was going.

"Your Highness," He bowed, and it was shallower than usual, but Sayu could see that there was something on his mind; it surprised her to see him so serious and preoccupied. Choyian was usually quite genial, trying to inject humor into their meetings with a bad joke or two; he was the kind of old man that was all too happy to give people some unsolicited _wisdom_ he'd learned about life.

 _Bearded lunatic_ was what Davvid called him. _Happy old man_ was what Fuu, who'd been more than a little insulted, sniffed in return.

"Oi." An unfamiliar voice called out. Sayu looked behind the minister to see a circle of unwittingly curious onlookers, and nothing less than a boy with a long black braid standing at the far end of it.

He was pointing at Choyian, another derisive laugh tumbling its way out of his mouth, "Oi, I wasn't finished with you yet, gramps!"

 _That must be the oracle,_ Sayu thought with a light tilt to her head and a narrowing of her eyes, studying the boy with a white shawl draped over his skinny shoulders and a pair of long black pants swallowing his legs. The way nobody dared to speak out against the way he addressed a high-ranking minister merely proved his status as the most important magician in Kou.

"What? Lost your balls already?" The boy taunted at Choyian's back, and he couldn't have been any older than Kougyoku. He laughed again, choking on it as he bent over with his hand over his ribcage, "Man, even Hakuei's got more balls than you, and she's a girl! Your son dies and you can't even stay any longer on the battlefield than a month…"

His voice promptly dropped an octave. Like a whip his voice resounded, so cruelly young and malicious, a slender finger curved at her direction. "…whenever I look at you I'm reminded of how disappointing you are, Chen. How far you've fallen."

The princess looked once more at the minister, wondering how he'd react. This was not a situation she would deal with, no matter that she was unwillingly made a spectator—and it was clear, with the unperturbed look in Choyian's eyes, the relaxed set to his jaw, that he could handle this.

Just like that, Sayuri watched the older man blink, and once again his mouth was smiling wide. He turned back, clasping his hands in his sleeves.

"It is of no importance to me how far my star has fallen or risen," Choyian said, flippant as ever, voice mild like any other doddering old man's. "What is important is how I choose to serve the Empire, and how well I do it."

This casual brush-off of the boy's provocations did not sit well with him. If anything he seemed even more incensed, losing all traces of his cool arrogance and instead replacing it with a swift brandishing of his wand.

It was made of metal and tipped with a ruby, she noted. In the same breath, Davvid drew even closer to her—the oracle stepped forward angrily—Sayu had opened her mouth, a command to Davvid already on her lips—and a single word was all it took to stop the boy from taking his squabble any further.

" _Why, you—!"_

"Judar," One deep voice had called, and cut through the thick tension.

The audience suddenly had elsewhere to look at. Both Sayu and the minister glanced to the side, where Kouen emerged, Koumei only a little ways behind him.

Choyian bowed. "Your Highness," He greeted, levity in his tone. She wondered at that; it was clear the boy had been intending to harm him physically, and still he kept his composure, able to make light of all this. Her respect for him suddenly grew by the slightest bit.

Sayuri said nothing as Kouen's crimson eyes assessed the people tangled in the oracle's dispute. This unfortunately included her, but she gave him an odd stare, wondering if this was how things were.

 _Young magis left to run amok,_ she thought. Sayu wasn't sure if she should be disgusted or intrigued. She spared a passing look at Davvid, and it was obvious how he felt about the oracle: he was peering at him with a deathly serious glint to his eye.

This was obviously something they would be debating later, in the privacy of her chambers. Perhaps she could invite Kyouya for tea as well one day, so they could have his opinion on the matter.

For now Kouen was giving the boy, Judar, his unimpressed, deadpan stare. Both Kouen and Koumei seemed to speak to him, and she couldn't overhear; the oracle just _tsked,_ twirling his wand in his fingers with all the annoyance in the world, like a child who'd just been denied his sweets.

Still: she gathered that the people who held the boy's leash were Kouen and Koumei, by the way he deferred to them. Soon enough their conversation was over, and Sayuri, Choyian, and Davvid watched as another man seemed to materialize from thin air.

He wore a white headdress, which clung to his head by a crown of thorns. A wide mustache to match his manic grin. He bowed exaggeratedly low to the imperial princes, his robes pooling on the ground with him—and with a crook of his finger, he left with the oracle in his company.

Evidently this was not an unusual circumstance either, with the way no one seemed to be surprised by it. But Choyian was watching the two figures leave with an empty look in his eyes, and for a moment Sayuri was shocked by it.

In any case it would not do for her to ignore her new husband's presence in public. She bid Kyouya and Choyian a short farewell and went over to Kouen, mind whirring on what she'd just witnessed.

"Kouen," She said quietly, before nodding at Koumei with a small smile. Sayu faced her husband, and she could not hide the wrinkle in her brow as she spoke, "I'll be heading back, now."

"Then we will both make our leave," Kouen said. He offered her his hand, and she took it with a sigh, knowing full well that everyone expected them to leave hand in hand. They bid their goodbyes to Koumei, who said he had matters to discuss with a few officials still at the banquet.

Then it was just the two of them, making their way down the halls of the imperial palace. Except not really.

Her distracted mind had turned to this observation, even as the warmth of her husband's touch seeped through her fingers. They were never really alone, the two of them, always being followed by an army of servants and bodyguards. The only privacy they would ever have was in each other's chambers, and even then, it was with the knowledge that other people would be waiting just outside the walls.

It was a wry and not entirely unexpected thing; they were both royalty, after all. Yet they were also newlyweds.

Kouen's grip was surprisingly gentle, but it did not feel as if one movement of her wrist and her hand would slip out of his. On the contrary, it was firm, but not overbearing, and his calloused fingers clung to hers.

* * *

"He's a _pawn_."

"A pawn with seemingly no supervision because of his status. A pawn that happens to be a _magi._ "

"Magi are supposed to guide kings. But he's nothing but a boy."

Sayuri rubbed her head. She had nothing to say in reply. Across her, Davvid and Fuu lounged on her bed, sharing some tea and pastries Fuu had brought with her.

Only the princess was sitting upright on the bedside, feeling uneasy. Somehow, she knew this revelation would dog her all night, effectively chasing her sleep for the rest of her night away. Once her mind gripped itself on something, it often refused to let go.

Davvid sensed her thoughts, for he sat up, the older man looking at her with a lopsided smile. "Ah, don't worry about it too much, Princess."

The magister's reply seemed to confirm whatever it was Fuu was thinking of, because she also smiled, albeit more gently, from her position on the bed. She was laying back on her cushions, already in her sleeping robes, running an idle hand through her long blonde hair. "Perhaps you could write to Prince Ali, Princess."

"I definitely will be," She agreed with a quiet laugh. She shook her head, standing. She wore her sleeping robes too, and they were nothing more than two thin layers of silk, the outer robe dyed a brilliant shade of turquoise, with repeating patterns of plum trees in full blossom.

She draped a jet-black coat over her shoulders, fixing her hair with one sweep of her hands. "I think I'll go for a walk."

Before the two could say anything else, she called over her shoulder with a small grin, "I'll be staying inside Kouen's wing, don't worry!"

* * *

The palace was quiet when she stepped out of her chambers. There was a slight chill in the air, which her coat protected her against, but she still shuddered at the wind and let out a long breath.

She began her roundabout walk, nodding at a guardsman she passed by occasionally. There was no true risk for her in Kouen's wing at least, which was filled with both the guards she'd brought from Jishou and Kouen's own personal guard. Davvid had also taken his turn about the wing when they first moved here, so she knew it was also crawling with wards that would alert him to any danger.

Sayuri had her arms clasped behind her, feet stepping quietly against the cold palace floor, head lost in thought. That she'd forgotten to put on some shoes was entirely incidental; she wondered if the guards were bewildered by her appearance. Seeing the Crown Princess out and about in the middle of the night, barefoot and in her sleeping robes, would undoubtedly be a strange sight.

She took a turn in the corridor. She was nearing Kouen's chambers now, and she expected to see his household members guarding his door.

Indeed, Gaku Kin was guarding the tall doors, with Seishuu right across him.

She dipped her head. "Gentlemen."

Seishuu had a smirk in place for her. Her lips twitched at the sight. "Princess,"

Even Gaku Kin was bowing respectfully. "Princess."

She'd gotten used to seeing the two household members, because they always shadowed Kouen. Sayuri passed by them without a single strange look, which she was thankful for.

"Princess!"

She stopped, blinking. She tossed a glance over her shoulder, and saw Seishuu had stepped out of his place resting against a pillar. The man gestured across him, and she saw Gaku Kin pull open Kouen's great doors with one languorous stretch of his massive arms.

"Lord Kouen," Seishuu said, "he wants to see you."

* * *

Kouen's study was lit by the orange glow of numerous candles, and a lantern hung above his desk with the help of a stand. They cast shadows against the walls of the room, the candlelight flickering and illuminating all the scrolls, books, and maps that had been gathered in his study.

Kouen himself was at his desk, as always. But this time he stood at her entrance, going over to her almost immediately.

He too was in his sleeping robes, white with red trimming, and his red hair was held back with a loose black tie. Her forbearing husband asked, his face half-hidden in the dimness of his study, "Why are you out at this hour?"

Sayuri shed her coat first. Her husband had cropped up in the most unexpected time that morning, when they spotted each other in the hallways. He had taken her to a banquet she'd been obligated to attend in his company, and now he'd cropped up again in the night, asking for her presence in his study.

The only thing that would've made her balk even more was if he requested her company in _bed_ tonight.

She held her coat in her arms, hugging it because it was still cold from the outside, and Kouen's study was unreasonably warm. "Weren't you the one to tell me I was free to roam the palace?"

He didn't even blink at her cheeky reply. Instead, he said, "I merely ask you as the husband whose marriage allows you to roam freely."

Sayuri huffed. Kouen was far too _serious._ "Well," she began with a shrug, "I couldn't sleep."

 _And there are many things to contemplate,_ she added silently.

"Don't tell me I should be in bed, because there'd be no use in it," She said.

Kouen was observing her, his intelligent stare a little unnerving. "It's a surprise you rise early if you always sleep in these hours."

The princess raised a brow at him, eyes wide and discerning. So he cared enough to make conjectures about her _sleeping condition_ —but to what end? Their paths rarely crossed, and their schedules were too different from each other's. They didn't see each other often, and so there was no use in knowledge like that.

"Davvid has warded your entire wing with protective spells, you know," She said lightly, wondering why he was so concerned. "I should be safe if I stay within those confines."

"I don't trust him to keep you safe." He said, crossing his arms.

What, were they going to have their first argument _now?_ In the dead of night, over a walk she decided to have on a whim?

"You should," She uttered lowly, peering at him with wide eyes. "He's a magister."

Kouen simply shook his head. He turned his back on her, saying dismissively, "It would be better if you stayed in here instead of wandering out in the middle of the night. The palace guards cannot always protect you."

"And _you_ can?"

That seemed to stop him. But when he turned halfway to look at her, he was unfazed, and said with absolute certainty, "I can,"

The look in his eyes dared her to challenge him, Ren Kouen, dungeon capturer, accomplished general, Crown Prince of the fearsome Kou Empire.

"And I will." He finished, his tone brooking no argument. "Stay, or let Seishuu escort you back."

She glared at him. She meticulously laid down her coat on his war table, and sat down on the low go table, legs curled underneath her.

Sayu would not brood and sulk. But it was clear that Kouen, in his breathtaking arrogance, had thought he'd won that pointless quarrel. Obviously, she thought differently, but it would do her no use to bring it up again.

 _Husbands_. Just her luck that this one was overprotective _._

Eventually she sighed, and started bringing out the bowls of black and white stones from the go table's hidden drawer. Seated as he was at his desk, Kouen was keeping an eye on her too, from the way he would ever so glance at where she sat from the corner of his eyes.

Her thoughts bubbled furiously in her head— _who does he think he is, trying to cage me in his chambers with him, like I'm some wild animal that needs to be domesticated—_ and it destroyed her concentration so ruinously that she had to take another deep, resounding sigh.

A chair slid from its place. Suddenly, Kouen was sitting across her, taking the bowl of black stones from her hands.

He looked at her. He glanced at the game board and grunted, "Were you planning to play against yourself?"

She stared back at him blankly. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

He scoffed. "So you truly aren't proficient yet."

The insult raised her hackles. "You've never played me a second time. How would you know?"

"Choyian Chen knows," He said back. "And playing against yourself is a terrible way to improve. You would know this if you were truly familiar with the game."

That he seemed to be acquainted with the minister was expected—but for Choyian to tell him of the few go games he'd roped her into (and agreed to playing out of pure politeness) almost felt like a betrayal.

Choyian Chen. The oracle Judar. _Kouen._

All names that swirled in her head that night, dizzying her.

"Play," Her husband said. "Your move, Sayuri."

* * *

They played for an hour or two.

She was reluctant at first to take it seriously, but like all else, she gave way to the rhythm of the game.

In truth it was not much of a challenge playing with her. Yet it was plain that whatever had occupied her mind was replaced by her petty need to win against him. Her constant sighing had interrupted his reading, earlier, and when he realized it he'd wondered how he could ever think she would be silent in his study. He'd almost ordered Seishuu inside to bring her back to her chambers, but he'd thought twice of it.

He won each match. She was improving, though not at such a blistering rate that she could catch up to his level. Kouen had thought she would get frustrated, but diligently she continued, studying his moves as well as she could, taking apart his strategies and putting them back together again in the next game they played.

She was the first to show any signs tiring, but this was from physical exhaustion; she yawned suddenly, and mumbled a half-meant _excuse me_ as she stood and wobbled over to the doorway that connected his bedchamber.

Kouen caught up with her, sighing as he went. "The Empress is holding a hunt tomorrow, in honor of Hakuei and Hakuryuu's return to the capital. We're expected to attend—"

He looked up, and when his eyes landed on his bed, he spied his wife collapsed over it.

Feeling his eye twitch, he neared the wide bed, standing over Sayuri's tired form.

"I know," She yawned loudly as she was rubbing her eyes. Her bright silver hair was splayed against the dark hues of his olive green sheets. "I know."

Kouen eyed her questioningly. "You won't wake early enough for it."

She closed her eyes. When she spoke, her voice had grown small, quiet.

It was only two words, but resignation and acceptance reigned in her tone and her weak limbs. "I know."

It felt like she was speaking of something else.

Kouen pursed his lips—then breathed another long-suffering sigh.

"I will take care of it."

He turned to march back into his study, "Sleep."

* * *

Notes:

The chapter that wouldn't end. lol. Long notes for a long chapter:

(1) I'll make it clear, since I was conflicted about it before, but I've now made up my mind; this is less a romance story, but more of _Sayuri's_ personal story, and Kouen just plays a pivotal part in it. If there are canon characters who have less of a role than you expected, or if I outright neglect canon characters in favor of my OCs, it won't entirely be a coincidence. Hence why Kouha or Gyokuen or Kougyoku don't even appear in this chapter that much. It's up to you if you want to continue reading this fic, but truthfully I'll just carry on writing this fic as I have been before.

(2) _Ages_ , for those that may be confused: Sayuri (24), Kouen (25), Koumei (23), Hakuei (18), Hakuryuu (13), Kougyoku (14), Kouha (15), Judar (15).

(3) About _d_ _reams:_ sometimes something happens to you, or you think about something the entire day, and it ends up extending into your sleep, with your brain trying to process it the events through a dream. That's according to my psychology class, anyway, and not the only reason why you might be having a dream. The dream is also because I absolutely want to avoid using flashbacks as a plot device at all costs, tbh.

(4) _Judar_ : sorry if I disappointed you with his appearance here, because he seems rather villainous, I swear I don't regard him as a 2D cutout. He's just...complex, like everyone else is in Kou.

(5) _Hakuei_ : **_so,_** the manga extras really _hint_ at something going on between Hakuei and Kouen. It's affecting my portrayal, obviously, because I can't disregard the connection between the both of them there, and I can understand _why_ there would be a connection in the first place.

So yeah. Thank y'all for reading! Hello to all the new followers of this story, if you've any inquiries, just say it in a review or a PM! Thanks to all the lovely people who've penned me a review last chapter - it's been fun responding to them.

As always, constructive criticism is highly appreciated, so if you've any comments, just write me a note :-)


	14. Domestication

**14**

 _Domestication_

"Good morning."

Judging from the amount of light coming in through the opened windows, it was probably already four or five hours since dawn—perhaps two hours until noon. Rising from her sleepy stupor and rubbing her eyes, Sayuri glanced to her left. Kouen was beside her, reading a scroll in his hands.

She wanted to rub her temples next, wondering if letting the events of the night before transpire had been wise on her part. _I must have been more tired than I thought last night._

There had been an argument about letting her roam the palace at night.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to roll her eyes. She'd simply been intending to go on a walk last night, to sort out her thoughts, and she'd somehow ended up in his bed.

Wryly, she considered the fact that their petty argument had the unintended effect of pushing away all those other thoughts anyway. And—and here she gazed at her rumpled sleeping robe, the pillow that still had the indentation of where her head had been in these past few hours—she'd gotten a _long_ night's rest, if her dreamless sleep and alertness right then were any indication.

Kouen had unknowingly offered her a lifeline when he challenged her pride and her competence at a simple board game. For that, she probably owed him at least a _good morning_ in return.

"Morning," Sayuri turned to her husband, unsure if she should smile or not. She settled on a faintly curious expression. Mindful of the late hour, she asked, "Did I keep you waiting?"

He set his scroll down. "No." He peered at her, and here they were, sitting by each other on his bed, locked in a staring contest he'd unwillingly dragged her into. She fought the urge to fidget.

 _Right,_ she remembered, _I've only been in his bed once before this._

Once, and it'd already been about a month since then—their wedding night.

She also fought the pang of guilt she felt at that.

Her brows knit together when her mind latched onto something else that had been discussed last night: Koumei had spoken in her ear about a hunt today, and knowing hunts, she'd expected it to start out early in the morning. "If I remember it right, there was a hunt scheduled this morning. Aren't you going?"

"Which is why I didn't wake you any earlier." Her husband said patiently, as if talking to a child, returning his attention to his scroll as he rolled it up and set it on his nightstand.

The princess huffed silently at his answer; it was distinctly _not_ an answer, and of course it could lose the slight condescension that accompanied it. She tried again, "Well, aren't you going?"

Kouen resettled on his bed, staring at her with intent. "Are _you?"_

She blew a strand of her silver hair out of her eyes. It seemed fruitless to ask a third time, so she took another breath—posed with such an elegant question by her husband, a man of such many words, she had no other choice but to consider it.

The Empress' hunt. Sayuri was unsure if she actually wanted to go, but that was of no importance; what was important was if said husband wanted to go, as she would be obliged to go along with him. Though they were still at the early stage of their marriage, she was already well aware of the duties she would be shouldering as his partner, of which included keeping him company at all his court functions.

It made her wonder why he was even asking for her opinion; it was obvious that she wouldn't have any, because it was only _his_ that mattered.

She said as much. "It's important that I attend every occasion _you_ attend. Hence why I'm asking if you intend to go."

 _Really,_ she mused, _we're going in circles._

Or was he unaware of the fact that women generally didn't have a choice in matters such as these? Sayuri looked at him, her eyes narrowed.

He didn't bat an eye at her scrutiny. Kouen just explained: "The Emperor will undoubtedly notice my absence, as well as the rest of my family. However, the Empress will take not offense, and it is no real matter of consequence if we miss this one hunt."

Something about his carless tone struck her. It was like he could _care_ _less_ about going, which was curious, and before she could think twice, the words had already slipped out of her mouth: "Don't you enjoy hunting?"

Her mind turned this tidbit over in her head quickly. Like every other prince who practiced swordsmanship and other hobbies considered to be masculine in nature, Kouen seemed the type to relish a good hunt. And perhaps he would be missing something, because his entire family would be there, as well as the more important courtiers and government officials. That was how hunts went, in her experience—it was practically tradition that the royalty would hold these hunts for sport, as an expression of their wealth and power, and as an occasion for important people to congregate and talk with one another.

So it was an absolute surprise when he merely scoffed at her question. Then he said: "I don't. While it is a good way to practice archery and tracking, the hunts in Rakushou are nothing more than grown men trying to outdo each other, and letting their servants do most of the actual hunting."

He sounded so disdainful of the entire thing that it made Sayu chuckle.

When she noticed his stare, she shook her head, trying to make it clear that she wasn't laughing at _him._

"No! I just—" She looked away for a moment, suddenly unsure about why she was even explaining herself to him. "I had expected you to like that kind of thing. But it seems I'm not entirely wrong, at least."

She contemplated: this would be her first hunt in Kou, if she went; she would get to observe firsthand how the Kou court and nobility interacted with the royalty, outside the imperial palace. But it also meant going on a _hunt,_ riding on horseback, and—most likely—having to find something to do with herself while also pretending to be 'hunting for game.'

"What you said seems true however," she remarked, "for any hunt with the nobility."

There was no shortage of bored noblemen trying to exhibit their masculinity around the world, after all. And, yes, while she did think that hunts were intended for important people to gather and chat, more often than not these important people just wanted to brag about their falcons or their horses, or whatever new animal they'd managed to strike down in their last hunt…

As if reading her less than charitable thoughts, Kouen made a noise of wry agreement. Something that suspiciously sounded like a _hmm_.

It did not escape her notice either that this was perhaps the most normal-sounding conversation they'd had since the entire time they'd known each other. It made the back of her neck prickle, like she would from then on be hyperaware of everything that was slipping out of her mouth.

She pursed her lips. They'd gotten sidetracked from the reason they were having this normal-sounding conversation in the first place. "So," Sayu tried, "are you going?"

"You seem reluctant."

Sayu let out a breath, twisting a stray silver strand of her hair away from her face. She then said, blunt as she could manage, "I wasn't asking about me. I asked if _you_ wanted to go."

And—truth be told, she was still surprised that he was even commenting on her opinion. That he was seemingly checking if she wanted to go, because he knew that she would be obliged to come if he went to the hunt.

"We're already late." Kouen reminded tonelessly.

 _Only because you waited this long for me to wake up,_ she felt with some guilt. Sayuri just sighed. "I don't feel reluctant to go, if you must know," She pronounced and, despite her hesitance, she shared: "only worried that I'd have nothing to do."

She sounded petty and childish for worrying over such a thing. He'd _asked_ however _,_ and she'd only acquiesced.

But Kouen simply nodded and got up from the bed.

Noticing her staring, he only continued to walk towards some drawers a few steps away. "Stay close to Koumei. He will be using the opportunity to go bird watching."

It was just as well. Sayuri hadn't held a bow in what felt like forever. She'd ridden, yes; she was an adept at that least, but archery? No. Even more laughable was her skill in falconry, which was more or less non-existent. Underneath her breath, she said a silent prayer of thanks for Koumei and his fascination with birds.

She stood and patted her silk sleeping robes down, running one hand through her hair; well aware of the fact that it was her fault they were running late to the hunt, she made her way for the doors of his chambers, saying over her shoulder: "I'll be ready in twenty minutes."

* * *

Not soon after the hunt, the Empress had invited her to tea. Both Davvid and Fuu were watching and listening curiously as the messenger Gyokuen had sent relayed her invitation, and both of them sat with her in her boudoir later as they contemplated the situation.

Sayuri flicked a lock of her hair back over her shoulder. "It's not as if I wasn't expecting this," She said out loud, "I suppose I'll have to wear something very proper. Put my hair up, maybe wear one—if not all—of Kouen's jewelry."

Davvid was peeling some large Jishouan oranges, and the sprightly citrus scent made Sayu's finger's twitch, but she waited, because the magister gave the peeled oranges to Fuu and Fuu refused to let her eat anything more than one orange segment at a time.

 _You always eat too much anyway, and you get it all over your robes sometimes,_ the blonde would admonish.

Nevertheless, they were good oranges, large, sweet and juicy from the fruit basket of Jishou. The princess popped another segment into her mouth as Fuu said, "He's her step-son only. Perhaps it wouldn't matter as much to her…"

Sayuri debated the thought. Gyokuen was her mother-in-law, technically, though she wasn't even related to Kouen by blood—it made her relationship to the Empress rather odd. She hadn't particularly been approached by the Empress in her stay at Rakushou so far, but each time they met she'd been nothing but kind and welcoming, if only a little too busy for Sayuri.

The princess did not hold it against Gyokuen. If anything, Sayu had come to understand that Gyokuen was more involved with the Empire's daily affairs than she'd first thought, which was surprising. She hadn't thought Koutoku the type to cede so much control over to his consort—rumor had it that when the Emperor felt uninterested in meeting with his ministers, Gyokuen filled his place.

A contradiction. Koutoku didn't seem to hold high regard for the fairer sex, which was the same treatment she received when she first arrived in Kou. It was a testament to this perception that Sayuri had never really seen Kouen's birth mother, or Kouha's, or Kougyoku's, or the _other seven imperial princesses' mothers,_ nor really heard of them, outside whatever court gossip she was given.

That surely made Gyokuen special. Maybe because she was the previous Emperor's wife—Hakutoku's beloved and only wife, she'd heard—and her assent to marry Koutoku further legitimized his claim as Emperor. Who knew; these were questions she could not just simply ask any of the people in possession of the answers.

…

…Well, she supposed she _could_ ask Koumei. Or Kougyoku. But it would be so awkward and indelicate, and she knew the imperial household kept their family secrets _very, very_ well, and for their own reasons, otherwise she would know thrice as much as she did right then.

Sayu ate another orange segment, filing away the thought as she swallowed.

* * *

To her surprise, she was not alone in meeting the Empress for tea. It seemed she brought her two blood children as well, the same two that had only returned from the northern border. Captain Hakuei and her silent brother, Hakuryuu. They all exchanged formal bows at the sight of each other, except for Gyokuen, who just watched them with slight amusement. The Empress accepted Sayuri's deep curtsy with a warm expression, saying brightly, "Come sit, Sayuri."

The way her name rolled off her tongue was almost motherly in its ease, the Empress' request rife with eagerness and care as she fluttered her hand at a seat. It was a form of address that felt too familiar for someone that barely knew her, but Sayuri let the sentiment slide; she knew she was speaking to the _Empress_ and her mother-in-law, and as Empress she could do nearly anything she pleased.

The four of them gathered around a low table set in one of the palace's gazebos, a quaint little tea party shaded from the spring sun. The gardens were warm today, but in this particular part the peonies were in full bloom, their sweet, rosey scent drifting lightly in the air.

Sayuri said nothing as maids and attendants scurried to serve them their tea and desserts. The Empress thanked them with a wide smile, and she gestured for them to help themselves, her expression obligingly conveying _eat, eat, my children._

Rather noticeably, only she and Hakuei partook.

Hakuryuu was quiet, even as Gyokuen spoke again: "I wanted to ask how you've been adjusting to life here in Kou."

"Thank you for your concern, Your Imperial Majesty," She started tentatively, making sure her tone was modulated with equal amounts of gratitude, respectfulness, and awe, "I've been well. Rakushou is beautiful, and the gardens in the palace more so."

It was also more or less a standard answer: she'd been asked this question countless of times, by a countless number of people; a nicety, just as much as the question itself was a nicety, and she always tailored her answer to whatever it was she guessed would please her partner in conversation.

She knew she couldn't help but be cautious around her new party. Gyokuen, Hakuei, and even Hakuryuu were all people she hadn't dealt with in the past. Times like these always called for caution and deliberation, so as not to offend people, and thus getting the most out of her interactions with them.

 _Ha,_ Sayuri thought wryly, _politicking at its finest._

The Empress broke her out of her ruminations. "Has Kouen helped your settling in a great deal?"

Seamlessly, Sayuri picked up the inflections in her voice. There was an impish tone to it, and Gyokuen's bright aquamarine eyes and long fan-like lashes fluttered and danced with friendly _teasing_.

She glanced at the cup of tea Hakuei was kindly pouring her, to buy her time to construct an answer. It was suddenly very easy to think that she was speaking to another woman her age, gossiping about the men in their lives, when only minutes earlier Gyokuen had been mothering her with a seat and motioning for her to eat and drink. Sayuri had to remember: she was speaking to the Empress—a woman who was in her forties, and mother to the two other members of the Imperial Family dining with them right then—and Sayu stifled the urge to knight her brows together.

It was—jarring; incongruous in a way she couldn't fathom, to say the least. Gyokuen was puzzling, between the mothering and the girlish ribbing. She didn't know where the balance between the two lay, if she was more motherly or more girlish in nature, otherwise she would know how to act around the Empress.

She masked all of this. The princess simply bowed her head, remembering she'd been asked a question about Kouen, and smiled. "The Crown Prince has been most kind."

Another platitude. Sayu nodded at Hakuei, another small smile in place to belatedly thank her for the cup of tea, and she took one sip.

It was sweet. _Very_ sweet. Blackberry tea, akin to a blend Kougyoku had served her once.

"I noticed that you both arrived late to the hunt," Gyokuen responded before eating a bite of her cake. She giggled—a high pitched thing, like the tinkling of a small bell—and as some crumbs flaked off her pastry, she delicately clapped her hands against each other to get rid of them. "Long night, I presume?"

 _You have no idea,_ Sayuri would've said, were it someone else. She opted to just give a quiet laugh of her own, trying her best to appear agreeable. "When Your Majesty puts it that way…yes."

A silence ensued. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable—but the Empress looked at her with a knowing smile, and let the conversation lapse, as she seemed busy with her cakes and engaging Hakuei in some talk about the northern border.

She became aware of Hakuryuu, who'd been seated to her left, looking at her. The boy was staring rather openly, to which she responded with a little tilt of her head, a mildly curious expression taking shape on her face. She still hadn't spoken much to him, and while he hadn't seemed hostile, thus far he didn't seem very friendly either.

"Please, Princess Sayuri," The thirteen year old suddenly spoke in a blank, polite tone, "try the tofu."

The Fourth Imperial Prince of Kou pointed at a small porcelain bowl filled with a glossy white cube, swimming in a lake of brown syrup.

Feeling curious, Sayu nodded and took a duck spoon. She took a piece of the silken tofu; it split easily under her spoon, and she dipped the piece to soak it in a little of its syrup. In her mouth, the dessert was the perfect balance of sugarcane sweet and bland, with hints of soybean. The tofu was perfectly soft in her mouth.

After she swallowed, she smiled a little more earnestly at the young boy, speaking in low tones, "That was very good. Thank you for your expert recommendation."

He colored at her genuine thanks and the gleeful little twist in her tone as she said the words _expert recommendation_. But all he did was nod and return to staring into his steaming teacup.

When her eyes slid over Captain Hakuei, she found the younger woman looking fondly at her brother, though Gyokuen still spoke in the background.

* * *

An hour later, Sayuri bid her thanks and goodbyes. While she took the garden path back to Kouen's wing and the Empress and the rest of her party took the path back to the Emperor's wing, she was stopped by Fuu's hand on her shoulder.

"Princess," She whispered, "look."

Sayuri turned back to find the two siblings from earlier, the robes of their mother's retinue fluttering behind them. But the two stayed, while the Empress' party drew further and further away.

The princess stopped, clasping her hands in the sleeves of her robes, regarding the two curiously. She curtsied, saying, "Princess Hakuei, Prince Hakuryuu."

She'd only noticed now, but standing under the radiant spring sun and wearing their pale robes, the two were rather alike. Hakuei and Hakuryuu seemed like different versions of the same person, and it was in the tilt of their noses, the shade of their hair, the point of their chins, and the shape of their eyes that she realized that person was the Empress. Gyokuen and Hakuei could easily even pass as sisters—which seemed all the more baffling, considering the Empress was in her forties.

 _What did the former Emperor look like,_ she wondered.

Under the spring sun, she also noticed the dark ring of skin surrounding one of Hakuryuu's eyes, and the almost stark _white_ ring of color surrounding his pupil. Like something had burst right in front of the left side of his face, and marked it forever.

 _What on earth happened there?_

In the meanwhile, the siblings formally returned her greeting, though when Hakuei stepped forward with a wide smile, there was nothing formal to it at all.

"I…" The Captain looked back at her brother. Hakuryuu nodded once. The younger princess turned to her, blue eyes alight with warmth, "… _we_ wanted to extend our own personal welcome to Kou. We know it's late, but we wanted to welcome you, Crown Princess, regardless."

Sayuri looked at the two royals with surprise. Stifling her disbelief, she said, "I…thank you." She pursed her lips, unexpectedly rendered speechless at the few words Hakuei had spoken. She looked away for a moment, automatically saying, "Thank you, truly. Both of you."

The kindness in Hakuei's eyes was almost too much. What exactly had she done to deserve such an open welcome? She spied no duplicity, no mockery in the Kou princess's manner, only gentleness. This was something she would've expected from a naïve young girl like Kougyoku, not a hardened military Captain like Hakuei, and certainly not from a close collaborator of Kouen and Koumei.

It was silly that even now, her suspicion refused to let up, her cynicism still running at full tilt. _What do you want from me,_ she could've said, but her mind was perfectly blank.

"You're part of the family now," Hakuei was saying, the smile on her milky white skin nearly blinding. She put her hand over her heart, like she was speaking right out of it, "Welcome, older sister."

The younger princess clasped her hands together and dipped her head, even as she honestly grinned. Behind her, Hakuryuu did the same, though his face stayed much more stoic.

Seeing them bowing to her was startling.

 _You're part of the family now._

 _Welcome, older sister._

Nobody had ever really said that to her before.

Sayuri found the urge to bow low, feeling numb and humbled and apprehensive.

But prostrating herself before the two of them would doubtless be unexpected and confusing, when they were only shallowly bowing to her.

So she bowed her own head only, uttering quietly, "Thank you."

* * *

That night she dreamt she was back in the stone palace, a massive complex on a hill with walls surrounding and countless steps leading up to it. Before her the stone city sprawled, rendered in limestone and marble; her fortified acropolis was a long carriage ride away from the agora and the town.

Here she'd been, trapped, imprisoned under the guise of protection; surrounded by no one but snakes and idolaters, a tangled mass of voices hissing into her ears, nearly indistinct from the sound of her own voice.

But that day was different. That day the palace was deathly quiet; as she stood on the balcony, her gaze swept upon her domain. Her vision gave way to the stone city, to endless fields whose lanes she knew were filled with saffron, olives, and figs, and to the sea—where more of her cities loomed just beyond.

 _The Crown Prince is doing well_ was the insidious ringing in her head, the words spoken every time she asked someone— _anyone—_ about her husband.

Soon everything she gazed upon would be taken from her. The sea, the fields, the cities. She turned and made her way through the halls with their cavernous ceilings, through the deserted colonnade, the heels on her sandals clicking sharply against the marble floor.

 _Come home,_

 _come home._

Alexander was late, he always was when returning to her, but her heart beat and searched for him anyway; alone, Sayuri sat in the massive courtyard, her head in her hands, tears suddenly pouring out from the bottom of her soul.

No one except the busts and the statues littering the courtyard bore her grief; nothing but their stony eyes staring at her with stoic sympathy, and their bodies lying still and unmoving no matter what seasons, what days, what people came and went.

A hand landed on her shoulder.

An old witch's voice came with it. She felt both relief and despair at her ancient presence, internally bidding her to leave and stay at the same time.

The voice was rough, having given invaluable counsel to so many leaders and monarchs older, and much more _wiser_ than her. "You've done a great good."

A pregnant pause. Then it resumed, in its subdued but fervently grateful tone, speaking the words she'd never in her life wanted to hear: "Thank you."

No magister should ever feel beholden to anyone, much less to a person like her, after what she'd done.

"The Queen wasn't helping. She—she wasn't helping _at all_. I had no choice, it had to be done," Sayuri whispered back, " _it had to be done_."

The witch tutted, then sighed, the weight of her hand lifting off of Sayuri's shoulder. "Yes. As I said…wars will always go badly, Princess."

* * *

In a cold sweat, Sayuri woke up once again in her chambers at Rakushou, the image of her dead husband's face burned to the back of her eyelids. It took one shaky moment as Fuu rushed to her bedside, the tea tray abandoned on the top of a dresser, and she kneeled while gripping Sayuri's trembling hand.

"I'm fine," The princess uttered quietly, gazing at her friend. Fuu's concerned face stared back at her, and Sayu reassuringly squeezed the blonde's hand. "Just a bad dream."

* * *

They were finished with reviewing the details of their visit to Ruyi Qi's studio in Rakushou, outside the walls of the Imperial Palace's complex, when her and Kyouya slumped into an unusual silence.

Unusual, because her friend seemed musing, debating about telling her something. She tilted her head at him playfully, lifting a single brow. "Something on your mind? _Huang_ for your thoughts?"

The mention of Kou's currency made him roll his eyes. _Thank god we didn't have to convert to their currency,_ was always what that eye-roll said when it came to the huang.

When he refused to speak, Sayu nodded, face pulling into an exaggeratedly understanding expression. "Alright then."

She continued to eat her dumplings in silence, sipping her tea every now and then. And after ten seconds passed…

"Fine," He muttered. Sayuri grinned in triumph. She put her chopsticks down, sparing only one proud thought to how far she'd come with using it.

When he seemed to be finished with gathering himself, he turned his flinty grey eyes on her, his mouth pulled into a fine, thin line.

"I'll be returning to Jishou in a fortnight," Kyouya finally said.

It took her a moment to process the words.

She pursed her lips, then chuckled wryly. "Well, at least you had the decency to tell me now, as opposed to telling me on the day you were actually leaving."

The memory of a tall magister with his head crowned by lush black curls came to mind.

Sayuri paused. Eyes flickering from him to the garden view offered by her boudoir's window, she continued softly, "For how long?"

When she received only silence, she looked at him again. Kyouya was stoic, but under her searching gaze he seemed unable to keep up his façade, and he shook his head. His voice was sighing when he muttered, "I am unsure. Months, maybe."

She scrunched her face as if in pain. "Who will help me speak to the ministers then? We both know it was your presence that first allowed me to speak to them."

Kyouya breathed in sharply. " _That—_ that was another matter I wanted to speak to you about," He uttered, his deep voice suddenly rattling in his throat. It was almost like he was stuttering, which was strange, because Kyouya Korechika, the dignified pride of the esteemed Korechika Clan, never stuttered.

He looked at her piercingly, grey eyes flashing at her. "You cannot meet with the ministers like we've been doing in the last weeks anymore."

"What?" Sayuri sputtered, taken by complete surprise. "But we've done so much! Surely you cannot think that _I_ would be a burden, or a detriment to those meetings—"

The ambassador made a noise of impatience. "You're missing the point. In the days leading up to your coronation nobody thought much of the foreigner wife of the Crown Prince representing her former country in talks about commerce. But you've been crowned for a while now, and we've already finished laying the groundwork for our merchants to ply their trade. Your place isn't in representing Jishou and the Triangle anymore."

"And just _where_ do you think my place is, Kyouya?" She hissed. She looked away from him, not believing this ridiculous conversation was even taking place, "In Kouen's bed? By Kouen's side, watching everyone grovel at his feet?"

"Yes."

One word. One word and still it was a cold knife to her gut.

She peered at him—and Kyouya Korechika's face was solemn, completely serious.

Hidden in the steel of his eyes was the barest hint of regret.

"You are his wife," Kyouya said, simply.

He seemed to take a deep breath and wrench his eyes shut, as if he were pained by trying to bring himself to say these words to her. He continued lowly, in a tenuous voice, "Not an official emissary sent by King Mameyoshi, or a member of the Royal Family of Jishou."

 _His wife._

Her friend's gaze drifted, and she watched his throat clench as if in slow motion. "You are the Crown Princess. A member of the Imperial Family…

"…the future Empress of Kou."

Unbidden, Hakuei's words from only a few days ago rung in her ears: _you're a member of the family now. Welcome, older sister._

Sayuri felt her herself go pale.

It had always been an unspoken thing in the back of her mind; like taboo, only ever to be contemplated at her own risk. She'd known, of course she'd known, that she would be expected to carry out certain duties. She'd been so mindful of them, because she had already been another Crown Prince's wife in the past—

—yet perhaps that had been the problem; she knew, and all along she'd been willfully denying it or just plainly avoiding that truth, by burying herself in the meetings with Kyouya, telling herself it was for the good of everyone involved, and silently dreading whenever Kouen would so much as mention _I expect to see you tonight._

Pain welled up in her chest.

 _I know who I am and what is expected of me, I'm well aware that I am his wife and property, and—_

 _I know._

 _I know._

 _I._

 _ **Know**_ _._

She took one long breath. She was in Kou because Kouen had asked for her hand. She had agreed because she thought she had a duty to protect Jishou and secure peace for the Triangle. She had gone to all those meetings because she thought she could help—and she _had,_ she was sure of it.

And now, what was left for her to do?

Easy.

 _Fulfill the rest of your bargain,_ the voice in her mind supplied quietly, _and that includes being a good wife._

 _You're a member of the Imperial Family now, it's time you acted like it._

It was painful, because she'd done all of this in the interest of Jishou and the Triangle; yet when she married Kouen, it had always been clear that she'd also been expected to give up all those same parts of her that belonged to Jishou and the Triangle.

Whatever was left of her after that was to be styled and shaped into all the right parts of a Kou wife.

Sayuri sighed. When she spoke again, her voice was light, trying too hard to keep the sadness out of her voice. "Of course. You're right; forgive me for lashing out at you."

All things she did now, she would be expected to do for Kou.

And so her vow to Kouen had gone: _I will honor you, as I honor this Empire._

Kyouya said nothing in reply. Only looked at her with that same hidden regret.

* * *

Sayuri had been thinking of going to see Kouen for a while now, but he unexpectedly appeared in her chambers as she'd been going through her missives, and thus saved her the trouble.

She looked up when the doors to her chambers were slid open, and standing there was her husband, carrying something in his arm. He stepped through, entering her boudoir; his eyes found her instantly, sitting at the far end of the room.

"Hello," She stood, throat surprisingly feeling tight, ever since her talk with Kyouya a couple of days earlier. Sayuri hid the fidgeting of her hands as she clasped them in her sleeves, struggling to find the right tone to address him. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Dimly, somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized this was the first time he'd ever been inside her chambers.

Kouen looked at her with a brow lifted, as if he'd instantly noticed her unusual nervousness. She bit her lip; if only he knew how much she'd been thinking about him in recent times.

 _Bad line of thought,_ she winced. It wasn't as if she'd fallen in love with him or anything—just, it was just she'd decided to be more…gracious to him.

When she looked back at all that transpired, Kouen had let her sleep in his bed, that day. He hadn't bothered her as she slept, even if he'd climbed in next to her, and hadn't woken her once. He'd waited, and after that—they'd proceeded to have some kind of civil conversation, where he'd practically asked her if she wanted to go to the Empress's hunt, even after she told him her opinion didn't matter.

He'd been attentive. _Stay close to Koumei,_ he'd said in reply when she'd told him of her fear of having nothing to do at the hunt, unknowingly assuaging her childish worry.

Yet most of all—

Last night in bed, just as she'd finished preparing to go to sleep, she'd remembered the first time she'd shared a bed with Kouen, their wedding night.

He'd been gentle. She'd willingly given herself to him, but he'd been _gentle_ , and when it was over, he'd kept to himself, as if—as if to give her space, and intended or not, she realized she appreciated it.

Such small kindnesses, even if they bore the emotionless face of her new husband, and they came with the price of shackling herself to Kou. It was bittersweet, but he'd never been cruel to her thus far, and had never laid a hand on her. He listened to her questions and requests, and treated her…well, in a way.

She had agreed to marrying him. It was a transaction; secure peace, marry him and be a good wife. The princess owed him for these small kindnesses, and she knew deep within her heart that her absence and her avoiding of him was not the way to repay it, nor was it the way to foster a good—if not _decent_ —working relationship with him.

Something needed to be done.

Sayuri cleared her throat, when she realized Kouen had absolutely caught her spacing out and worrying about these things in her head, and had knowingly chosen to stay silent. "Was there something you needed?"

He was still looking at her, as if searching for any sign for something wrong. He then held out his arm. "I came to return this."

It was her coat, from when she'd spent the night in his chambers. As she recalled, she'd left it on top of his war table, in his study. Strange; he must've noticed it before now, seeing as the war table was a fairly conspicuous place to forget something, but he only returned it now.

"You could've sent someone to bring it back," Sayuri said curiously, and took the heavy coat of stiff black silk from him. She bowed her head, however. "But thank you, all the same. I hadn't noticed it was gone."

She'd left his room in such a rush that day. Just as she was handing off her coat to Fuu, Kouen spoke again: "You met with the Empress."

The princess stared at him. She nodded once. "I did."

The Empress, Gyokuen; a puzzle, but she hadn't run into her again in the palace, and remained out of reach.

"It wasn't for long; I only had tea with her. Princess Hakuei and Prince Hakuryuu were there as well."

Kouen seemed to contemplate this.

With an abrupt nod of his own, he made to leave.

"Wait!"

Her husband stopped, and his back carrying his broad shoulders, without the customary black cape for once, was all she saw as she felt her mouth go dry. She took another breath to compose herself—she'd caught his attention, and it was better to speak now, when he was already here.

She took one small step closer to him, knowing this was an important conversation to have, and he turned to face her once again.

This close, Sayuri had to look up to him a little since he was still taller than her.

She licked her lips.

Then she blurted: "I thought you should know that I'll be visiting the city, tomorrow."

Ah. That was not what she'd intended _at all_ , but—it worked just as well. She would certainly not be asking him for his permission to tour Rakushou, of all things, but this would be a good prelude to what she _truly_ had to say. Or so she hoped.

Kouen's face remained serious, though the subtle shift in his brow told her he was considering what she'd just said. He then gazed at her in his unimpressed manner, as if to say, _was that all?_

"I hope you intend to bring a proper guard with you," His crimson eyes bore into her own, and for a moment she was unsure if he was scolding her for wandering around the palace at night, or it was his attempt at some very, _very_ deadpan humor.

Sayuri bit the inside of her cheek, reining in a retort. "I'll be going with Kyouya. We're bringing a full party with guards, I assure you."

She paused to find the right words for what she would next say. As if he'd picked up on this as well, he then said: "And?"

The princess thought for a moment. They never really spent much time together, and she'd always wondered if it was the product of a machination on his part, on _her_ part, or both their parts, consciously or unconsciously.

The wives of nobles, princes, kings, and surely emperors were expected to serve as part of their husband's entourage, and accompany them in all their functions; they were great hostesses, to organize events that would bring honor and prestige to their husband's name, and most of all they were the ones their husband spent their time alone with, and became his most trusted ally.

Even Gyokuen could be considered a great wife, because she did all those things. She'd organized the hunt, and filled in for Koutoku on the days he couldn't meet his ministers. In the few times she'd seen both the Emperor and the Empress, they'd always seemed to be talking amongst each other, keeping themselves company.

Sayuri's own mother was the perfect wife. She was her father's right hand, and what's more was she loved Mameyoshi deeply.

Before, when she'd been the Crown Princess of Caera…Sayuri vividly remembered writing often to Alexander in the later years of their marriage, talking fondly with him, and doing most of everything together.

Clearly something was different, here.

Even if Kouen's days were filled to the brim with war meetings and his own preparations for Kou's war campaigns, a marriage should've found a compromise for all these necessities. She'd busied herself with the trade board before, but now she had no excuse for avoiding him.

And he'd been kind.

He'd been _kind,_ in the smallest of manners, despite his arrogance.

"Perhaps it's already come to your attention," Sayuri began, her heart beating loudly in her ears, and feeling Kouen's red eyes still on her was in no way helping her scramble to find the proper rephrasing of _I know I've been neglecting my wifely duties, and I'm trying to correct this mistake,_ "but I've ceased meeting with Minister Choyian and the rest of his board. We've finished all the agreements that would allow trade to occur between Kou and Jishou smoothly now."

Her breath caught in her throat. That had been a rather long explanation, and she suspected it had also been unnecessary; with the way Kouen seemed not at all surprised by her declaration, he was already well aware of what she'd just told him.

She knit her brows.

 _Keep it short._

Her husband was a smart, perceptive man. She did not need to say much.

She attempted to smile at him. Yet just thinking of the words she was about to say still felt like getting her throat cut open.

 _He is your husband._

 _He is all you have, here, in Kou._

 _And you are his wife._

"I'm yours, Kouen," Sayuri uttered, "whenever you need me."

Kouen was quiet.

But then he dipped his head, acknowledgement and simple acceptance all in one. "I know."

* * *

Notes:

It's easy to deny when life is being unfair, tbh. Denial is so commonplace - so human, lol.

(1) Fun reminder, I should say that the narration isn't necessarily... _reliable?_ For example: this chapter was entirely done in Sayuri's POV, and what we read is _her_ _own_ warped view of the things see shes, experiences, etc. It's not exactly the truth, but it's what she sees.

(2) I'm sorry this one's so plot heavy; I'm really trying to distill the writing, because when I reconsidered how many chapters were left in this story, it made me a little faint. Heck, we aren't even near Sinbad's reappearance yet.

(3) A response to _morpehusandmuse's_ anon review: I'm sorry about Sinbad - since I just mentioned his reappearance isn't near yet - but here's appreciation for your respective partner, because we all know it's the little things that count in life. :-)

As always, it's been a pleasure writing for you folks! Welcome to all new readers out there, who've just followed/faved this fic; feel free to drop any comments, constructive criticism, especially. To all who've penned me a review - a big thanks, and I had fun reading them; I'll be responding shortly!

Thanks for reading this far!


	15. The Maddening Crowd

**15**

 _The Maddening Crowd_

The figure of the Crown Princess of Kou was indeed one that was hard to miss, even in a palace full of courtiers and imperial officials that made up the court of her father and mother; here the illustrious woman was now, walking and in conversation with her bodyguard and her handmaiden, head tilted as if in consideration of something.

They were across the courtyard, at the opposite hallway, yet still Hakuei could see her clear as day—today she was not wearing the foreign clothes she seemed to prefer, the cylindrical robes with their elegant painted patterns, all held in place with the thick sash she would wear around her waist; one could say she almost looked every inch a native Kou princess that morning, for she had pulled her hair back in a bun—a single silver hairpin stuck in its middle—and gone with a stylized hanfu that spoke of Ruyi Qi's excellent craftsmanship.

Her bodyguard was speaking, and the princess seemed to be listening with great intent; soon, however, she and the handmaid chuckled good-naturedly at something he'd evidently uttered, and the three went on their way.

Hakuei considered this with a curious expression, though she could not fight the small smile that had crept on her face. She hadn't known the Crown Princess for very long, and the amount of times she'd personally spoken to her she could count on her fingers.

Sayuri Jie was still a great curiosity to her, and perhaps to everyone else in the court—when Koutoku had first laid out his decree about what they were to do on the matter of Jishou and the Triangle, he'd said _bring me a bride that will give us no trouble._

Perhaps they'd all thought that they would bring back a meek woman with no will, someone who would easily submit herself to Kou; that would've easily fit the Emperor's description.

And yet: after a month and half's absence from the battlefield, last year Kouen had returned to the front lines, and briefly all was as it should've been. It was only later that night, in the privacy of his own tent and after a brief war meeting with the other commanding officers, had he asked her to stay behind and explained what was at hand. He'd been seated at the head of the war table, writing a missive, when he finished and set his brush down.

She remembered it vividly: she'd intended to teasingly ask him about his trip to the east. But he spoke first, in his cool voice: _Mei and I have secured the alliance with Jishou. If all goes well here, we will return to Rakushou for the wedding in a year's time._

 _His engagement is a year long? I would've expected it to be months only,_ she'd said in slight surprise.

Kouen had lifted a brow. _His?_

 _Lord Koumei,_ she'd supplied immediately, feeling more confused.

Then, Kouen had simply shaken his head and called for a messenger. It was in those small moments that the idea of exactly whose engagement it was dawned upon her, and she'd been left utterly speechless.

Many more months after that, she came. Kouen had obviously resolved not to bring just anyone home to the Empire; there were whispers, and the wind had carried them all the way to the northern border, where Hakuei had been. The governor who hosted their division had skittishly inquired about rumors of the foreign princess who refused to let any man but the Emperor see her face—the mysterious daughter of Jishou that cloaked herself with a silver veil, the woman that all of Kou would one day bow to as Empress.

Seeing her for the first time at the banquet—and sitting comfortably between Koumei and Kouen, no less—had caught her off guard.

She could not imagine Kouen being married to someone weak. She'd barely even imagined him marrying to begin with, but Sayuri Jie stood with a straight spine, even if she bore on her shoulders the heavy mantle of Crown Princess; the woman held herself with pride, laughed freely when speaking to the Second Imperial Prince of Kou, and readily engaged with the ministers of the court.

That Kouen had found such a woman and brought her into the imperial family by virtue of their marriage still baffled everyone.

It was what Hakuei found intriguing, however, and remarkable. She found herself eager to get to know Sayuri Jie not only as her role as Crown Princess, but also as sister and fellow woman with (what Hakuei was sure was) her own storied history.

"Lord Koumei told me she's off to the market today," Hakuryuu murmured quietly from beside her.

Hakuei truly let herself smile this time. She glanced with some amusement at her baby brother, who'd also been watching the Crown Princess' party pass them, and was now staring at the empty hallway across theirs'. "How and for what reason did you inquire about it to our cousin?"

The thirteen year old's lips drew into a line. Then they moved to speak: "I noticed the convoy near the stables. He was there too, and I asked if he was going somewhere. I know you have a war council with him and Lord Kouen this morning."

"I see. He must have been overseeing the preparations himself, then."

"It looked like it."

It struck her as protective of Koumei, which made her grin a little; rumor had it that he'd befriended Sayuri first, before Kouen had been introduced to the princess. On the day of the hunt he'd reconvened with the rest of the hunting party with Sayuri in his party, and Hakuei had seen up close the true fondness in his eyes as he regarded the Crown Princess.

"I worry we overstepped our bounds when we personally welcomed Lady Sayuri the other day."

"Do you?" Hakuei replied automatically. "I think we did the right thing. Our family…" For a moment her face twisted in on itself, knowing what many people spoke of them. "…hasn't a reputation for being particularly kind. Shouldn't we change that?"

"I…I agree," Her brother said. The princess looked at him with a furrowed brow, worried that she herself had been a tad harsh about what she believed in. But a small measure of pride filled her when Hakuryuu held his ground, cautiously saying, "But we don't know her. And without a doubt, she barely knows us."

"True. We _don't_ know her. That doesn't stop me, however, from trying to extend the hand of friendship."

Gently, she placed a hand on little Hakuryuu's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. The motion startled him, and the princess took the time to say: "We will never know her if we do not try. Everyone deserves that chance, do they not?"

The boy looked away for a moment, abashed. Yet he trained his mismatched eyes on hers again, a sheepish smile on his face.

And Hakuei felt glad.

"Yes, I suppose so."

* * *

The two polished jade stones that were Sayuri Jie's eyes surveyed the scene before her with obvious surprise. She walked down a set of steps, her bodyguard and handmaid dutifully trailing behind her.

Trade minister Choyian Chen merely smoothed his robes and clasped his aging hands in his sleeves, feeling a twinge regretful to have sprung this upon the unsuspecting Crown Princess without so much as a hastily written message.

Sayuri's mask of unrelenting politeness had already slipped itself into place by the time her piercing stare fell upon him.

He expected the sight of her mask irritated some of his colleagues. She wielded her scrupulous observance of courtesy as a weapon during negotiations; she could be blunt when it suited her, but she was always infinitely mindful of ruffling the feathers of a few feeble old men that were already feeling threatened by her younger, womanly presence.

 _Is it because I'm female?_ She'd straight out asked when Chen had said a statement as impertinent and condescending as _we mean no offense, Princess, but this is just not done in Kou…_

She'd made a solid case of why she should've been allowed to convene with the trade ministers, couching the argument with _please allow me_ and _I know I am still young and have much to learn_ and _I only want what's best for Kou and Jishou._

The perfect blend of practicality and politeness, coupled with a heady dose of humility…or ego-stroking, depending of course on the gentleman minister she spoke to.

The Crown Princess was, in short, a very sharp woman.

Chen bowed low to her.

"Crown Princess Sayuri," He greeted. When he rose out of his stance, she was regarding him with some curiosity, eyes narrowed. She was right to be wary of him, considering he was appearing before her unannounced. "Ambassador Korechika will be meeting us in the city. He specified a very good teahouse, one whose blends I hope Your Highness will find interesting."

"I was unaware that he had extended the invitation to you, Minister Choyian," She said. But the woman dipped her head, a polite smile appearing on her face. "I look forward to spending this morning in your company however. You could tell me far more about the city's market than the Ambassador could."

The compliment rung true in his ears, despite the reluctance and distance in her tone, and the minister smiled his remorse. He said nothing more in reply, and she graciously thanked him when he assisted her in climbing inside the carriage.

Minutes later, the back gates of the imperial complex opened to a non-descript path back into the city. Sayuri sat quiet across him, her handmaid equally silent.

The Crown Princess seemed content to survey the passing scenery, which as of the moment consisted of trees that flit by and the occasional tradesman's caravan making their way to the imperial palace behind them.

The steady clipping of horseshoes and racing carriage wheels filled the space between them. He could tell the princess was genuinely interested in the scenery, and was contemplating just how her supposed visit to a certain Ruyi Qi had been interfered with.

She probably had no idea the Second Imperial Prince had personally reviewed the logistics of her excursion, and made sure everything had been in order. She probably had no idea that her husband, the Crown Prince, had approached Chen late last night about the matter either.

It was a funny thought to have: the two eldest princes of Kou were probably the dourest men he ever knew, and to see evidence of their protectiveness over this one woman slightly amused him.

Mostly, however, it worried him. His steadily growing attachment to the new Crown Princess had alternately pleasantly surprised him, and worried him—it was never good, to feel so much for someone or something that could so easily be gone, or taken away.

Countless meetings and arguments about levies and taxes and quotas and trade routes had cemented her good intentions for both Kou and Jishou, as well as the strength of her will, in his mind—the fact that she didn't seem to care overly much for her new husband, whose company she had voluntarily and repeatedly eschewed to go speak with a gaggle of old men, only further proved to him that she was no airheaded princess seeking only to please her husband.

With enough time she would make a fine Empress one day, he'd realized early on. It was a ready admission when he thought that bringing her to Kou was one of the few good things the imperial family had done since Hakutoku's wrongful death.

And while loyalty to her had already dug its roots in his heart by then, he was only all the more aware of how that would make her doubly unwelcome in the eyes of the _other_ forces at play in Rakushou.

Chen was certain Kouen and Koumei were aware of this. Or—he had to be certain they were already aware of this.

 _Hakutoku,_ he sighed silently, as he looked out the latticed windows of the moving carriage, _every day we stray further from the path you've set. Let us do Kou right with this Empress._

* * *

The ride to the city continued to be quiet. Sayuri felt in no overwhelming mood to speak—she was wholly preoccupied with the way things had unfolded. She'd woken that day, as bright and early as she could manage, with the intention of taking a carriage with Kyouya to the city; imagine her surprise when it was not her raven-haired friend waiting for her by the stables, but an old man.

She'd had no intention at all of purposely meeting a trade minister, since her confession to Kouen. She wondered…

Less than four feet away from her, the minister stirred from whatever thoughts he seemed to be having. Choyian smiled at her, which she secretly regarded with some suspicion. Outwardly, it was easy to project an air of blank curiosity. "If you would allow me, Your Highness, to explain the arrangement that was reached for this trip we're making to the market..."

"Yes," Sayuri bid respectfully, "if you would."

The old man's beard twitched with a smile at her assent. "I was—ah—approached about the matter by your husband last night…"

She fought the urge to sigh and roll her eyes. She'd had _some_ inkling that Kouen had somehow had a hand in this, considering it was only _he_ that she told of her excursion to the market, last night; she'd told no one else but Kyouya. And she'd had no reason to believe her old friend would suddenly up and invite Choyian Chen out of nowhere.

Of course her husband would do something like this behind her back; being married to him for the span of these long weeks only proved that presumptuousness was well in his nature, and he was a bit like Emperor Koutoku in that respect.

But the curious question of _why_ remained. Kouen—Kouen was not unreasonable, she also believed, and she had never really seen him overcome by any emotion other than arrogance. Arrogance that was _almost_ valid, given that he had the annoying tendency to be exceedingly knowledgeable.

 _I'm yours, Kouen, whenever you need me._

 _I know._

She'd nearly scoffed in his face, but she instead had bid him a civil _good evening_ and watched him leave her chambers. "Might I ask as to why my husband was approaching you about this?"

The old man next did something she had never anticipated: his eyes flickered away from hers, and his expression turned contemplative. It struck her as oddly candid, which she did not expect from a minister of his stature. "I suspect he wanted his involvement to be kept secret, but I felt he asked me to accompany you because he knew—like Your Highness mentioned earlier—that I would be able to tell you more about the market and what the economy in the city was like, in fine detail. I've only been minister for seven years, but I've been roaming the streets of Rakushou ever since I was a child. I'm sure he felt my knowledge would be of use to you."

Sayuri took a moment to process this. _He_ felt?

This seemed like conjecture on Choyian's part, however inclined as she was to believe it. But she knew nothing of how close he actually was to Kouen, or if they were friends, or even enemies; she knew that Kouen treated the old minister with respect and that they spoke together, but she was unsure if that respect extended into anything else.

"The hour was late, however, and unthinkingly I fell to bed before I thought of informing Your Highness. Prince Koumei assured me this morning that he had dealt with the Ambassador; it fell to me to meet you at the stables."

So Koumei was in on this as well. She furrowed her brow—this was an unwelcome revelation. "Koumei was aware of this?"

Choyian's expression was that of wry amusement. "Yes. He thought your traveling party needed more guards."

"Ah, I noticed," She uttered. "There was a bit more to the lineup than usual. I entirely thought they belonged to _your_ party."

The fact was that Kouen asked Choyian to accompany her. And Koumei had run his hands over _her_ outing; strange as it was she could almost forgive Kouen's interference, because this was something in his character to do, but Koumei?

She felt a little betrayed.

It was at this point Choyian chose to speak again, as if sensing her slight distress: "I'm sure Lord Kouen tasked his brother with your safety. They are both busy men, but everyone knows that the Crown Prince's most trusted and most capable ally is his own brother."

And everyone knew of Koumei's obeisance to Kouen's wishes. That had always been the most striking thing about Koumei—he had the most magnificent brain, and a will that was harder than steel. Still, he wholeheartedly deferred to Kouen and recognized him as his _lord brother._

Nearly everyone else was much the same, in retrospect: when they said _Crown Prince Kouen_ they said it with the deepest well of respect; not even the Emperor garnered this much praise or devotion—Hakuei, Kougyoku, Koumei, the ministers...so many bowed to him, and for the life of her Sayuri couldn't understand _._

Maybe it was because she was still a foreigner in many respects. Maybe the people of Kou knew something she didn't.

And here Minister Choyian Chen was, a most esteemed gentleman from the trade board, telling her about how Kouen had intended for his interference to be kept quiet.

She looked at him piercingly, trying to search him for the answer to the predicament he'd laid out before her. Sayuri tilted her head, unsure of what to make of this old man. The circumstances of their first meeting were still remembered vividly in her mind, but she also remembered when he bravely stood against the Oracle of Kou's insult when no one else would.

"I thank you for telling me this," Sayuri said. But no information was ever freely given, and the strange differences in his behavior told her there was something else to this man. What was he going to gain by being honest with her?

So she stayed silent. If he wanted something, he would simply have to ask for it.

The rueful smile on Choyian's face told her that he understood this. And so he spoke: "I said it because I believe you will help our nation, Crown Princess. You may not be Empress yet, but the mere fact that you did not dismiss me when I announced my intention in going with you to the city suggests that you _do_ care about supporting our merchants, and our livelihoods."

"I couldn't have dismissed you," She uttered archly, "it would have been rude. And you had implied an agreement with Ambassador Korechika; I could not have refused your company, because it would have been an insult to my friend. Though now I know that it was Prince Koumei who dealt with Kyouya, not _you,_ my lord."

"But Your Highness _did_ say you welcomed me, for I could tell you a great deal more about the city than what the Ambassador, did you not?"

The princess just stared at the man across her. Was he expecting her to lie? She wasn't going to. And despite her hesitance, she _had_ come to the conclusion that his own expertise in that area was still welcome with her.

"I will always welcome the chance to know more, if it will help me."

Their argument was now moot.

Choyian looked like he regretted the end of their discussion. He bowed his head, "That Lord Kouen did not order me to accompany you, I feel you should know. He approached me with a request, and I had simply accepted, knowing it would do good for all parties involved."

The carriage jolted to a stop. Choyian peered outside the wooden lattice of his window, and then exclaimed: "It seems as if we've arrived, Your Highness."

Before she could get another word in edgewise, he was already clambering out of the vehicle, joyfully saying, "What a wonderful day to be out. And it seems as if our arrival was anticipated—ah, good day to you."

Brows knit with confusion, Sayuri smoothed her new hanfu and let Fuu exit the carriage first. It was her handmaid's smooth hand and Choyian's wrinkled one that helped her climb down.

What awaited her was a long road hedged by wooden townhouses—clothes lines, paper lanterns, and the ever-present Kou Empire banners hung overhead. Merchants and other trading folk were clothed in stiff dark colored robes, hawking their wares from their stall; however, most of the people in that part of the market wore lighter robes in shades of blue.

They were obviously in the western market; this lane in particular seemed to concern itself with a assortments of fruits: there were plump red strawberries, cherries, peaches, and surprisingly a variety of what looked to be white mangosteens. Most noticeable however were the group of people hovering by her traveling party, openly staring at them with thunderstruck expressions in various stages of awe.

They were a blend of tradesmen and servants robed in their noble house's colors. While they readily bowed to Choyian, they stared at her with their mouths open—standing a bit to the side, the trade minister was jovially greeting some people he seemed to know.

Suddenly a handmaid dropped down in a very low curtsey, the peaches in her basket nearly tumbling to the ground in her hastiness. "Y-Your Highn-ness!"

That seemed enough to snap everyone else out of their trances, and soon twenty or so people were bowing to her in the middle of the market street, uttering a confused litany of _Your Highness_ and _Your Majesty_ and _Your Grace_ 's _._ Choyian turned back to survey this situation with some obvious merriment.

"The Crown Princess has decided to come to the western market today," The rotund old man said in a good-natured tone; the kindness in his eyes with which he regarded the common people, plus the casualness in his manner while being here told Sayuri that he was indeed very familiar with this part of the city. "We're just taking a nice little stroll."

With a chuckle, Choyian added: "Pardon our disturbance. We won't be bothering you good folk any longer."

The people seemed to take the minister's humility in stride, like he was a familiar fixture among them, and they knew how to interact with him. One of the men, who'd previously been pulling a cart before stopping to gape at her arrival, gamely said: "If you don't mind me saying, m'lord, but it's always good to see you in our part of the town." He paused—then nervously tacked on, staring at the point where Sayuri's robes met the ground, "It's an honor too, m'lady…"

"And it is an honor on my part as well," She replied in kind. The man's gaze snapped up, and they locked eyes for one moment. The princess merely grinned. "I've never been around Rakushou. It is a fine city, and I'm enjoying the beginning of my acquaintance with it."

Sayuri directed a stare at Choyian that was perhaps a tinge scrutinizing. "I'm also sure the good minister would help introduce me to the other districts as well." She looked back at the tradesman, saying with a light tone, "One hopes that by the end of the market day, they would've gotten to see the entirety of Rakushou."

Choyian bowed his head dutifully, though his smile did not wane, and instead he indeed looked happy at the prospect. He uttered, "As you wish, Your Highness. I would be glad to."

 _What a weird day,_ her mind said silently.

Sayu refrained from raising her brows at the minister's deferential manner—she just smiled and nodded at the rest of the other people still bowing, bidding them a good morning.

* * *

Their walk down the lane continued in a similar vein. Though people visibly skirted her party at first, they made sure to bow in respect. It was only when she and Choyian passed that they began to _follow_ them.

Sayuri was unbothered by it—it _was_ amusing, however, to be gaped and stared at how many times, and to have people excitedly gossip to themselves while she was in earshot. Many eyes lingered on her silver hair, and many more still lingered on Davvid's tanned skin and gruffly welcoming demeanor.

Choyian told her that Ruyi Qi's studio was in the next district, near to the lanes that sold textiles and contained a small dye market. They would be heading to the edge of the lane, toward the teahouse district, where they would meet Kyouya and subsequently dine before heading over to Lady Ruyi's. They would make time for the other districts, as well as the eastern market, later in the afternoon.

As they settled this, they all the while made sure to stop at as many stalls as they could; Choyian greeted the shopkeeper first and introduced Sayuri, and she would likewise courteously bid them good morning.

After, however, she got straight to business and inquiring about what goods they sold.

Usually the merchants first regarded her with amazement, as if they couldn't believe she was real and _standing right before them_ and asking them questions _,_ then they took a stilted moment to put together their answer to _where are these from, which routes do you use, how often do you get your deliveries?_ —and then they would readily engage her in an exhaustive but conversation about their chosen craft, as if they were proudly eager to show her the ins and outs of their work.

This was a pattern that she knew well enough from her time in Caera.

And she could admit to herself that it felt…good, in a way, to meet the people of "her country." It felt right to be among them, speaking to them and not just the nobles and officials caged with her in the imperial palace; to hear them happily speak about their lives was fulfilling, almost, and she tried to commit to memory each and every word they uttered.

If it brought happiness to the people of the _empire_ she was supposedly a part of now, it was an affirmation that she was surely doing the right thing, upholding her end of the marriage contract. It had to be.

The people of Kou were hardworking and proud of their livelihoods, that much she knew, but still it was plain to see that they showed true deference to the crown. Once the people she met on the street knew her as _the Crown Princess_ they were always nervous and anxious, as if they were willing to do anything to try and please her.

They were already entering the teahouse when Sayuri had the time to reflect on this. The teahouse district was on the edge of the land, on the banks of a river that divided the eastern market from the western—it was large and sprawling, with emerald green tiles on their sloping gabled roofs, and great sliding doors and pillars of a deep crimson, holding the entire two-story structure well above the river water.

Of course the owner and proprietor of the prestigious, centuries-old teahouse had personally met them and showed them to the upper floor, which offered a beautiful view of the boardwalk on the other side of the river, and the willow trees that lined the lane.

The upper floor was also empty, save for the teahouse's lavish furnishings and one man on the far end of the room with his hands clasped behind his back, silhouetted against the brightness of the then-afternoon light.

Kyouya turned back at their arrival, his taciturn expression not changing even as his eyes roved over her figure. Once satisfied, he fixed his stare on Choyian. "Minister."

The old man was already moving toward a seat near Kyouya, fanning himself with a wrinkled hand. "Korechika. I am most glad you chose this place for our rendezvous; they always did have the best view of the Wangzi river."

"Their tea is satisfactory," Kyouya offered. He faced her again, tilting his head down, as if to properly reassess her state. Sayuri rolled her eyes at the gesture. It was abundantly clear that she was fine, after all, and nothing ill had befallen her during the entire time she was away from his side, and was instead at Choyian's.

"A stingy compliment for one of Kou's oldest teahouses," The minister retorted. But again it was good-natured, and in fact Kyouya seemed to have expected it from him, with the way her friend disregarded the declaration in favor of approaching her.

"An enlightening walk through the western market, I gather?" He asked without preamble.

"In more ways than one," Sayuri smiled. "It was a little tiring, but I learned much."

Kyouya's slate grey eyes briefly slid over to the minister both on their minds, a questioning look on his face. She nodded and said aloud, "Minister Choyian was most helpful with his accompanying me today. We're planning to visit the other districts, as well as the eastern market this afternoon, once we finish at Lady Ruyi's."

"Are you sure this is wise?"

His voice was pitched low. But this close, she could see the concerned furrow to his brow, the displeased line his mouth made. She placed a hand on his shoulder and grinned, wriggling a mischievous brow. "Yes, I'm sure. Koumei saw fit to dispatch his own contingent of guards after all, I'm plenty sure I'll be safe."

She turned away, moving toward a large darkwood table near the balcony of the teahouse. Choyian offered her a seat at its head, which she thanked him for.

"You handled yourself extremely well today," The minister commented as he sat to her left. A slight wind breezed through the teahouse, and the lush smell of the flowering willow trees on the other side of the river was carried with it. "I'm still surprised to hear that today was your first time out of the imperial palace."

A few servants and the owner of the teahouse again came up with tea trays and a sumptuous selection of foods for lunch; there were dumplings, noodles, fruits, a platter of fresh vegetables and fish. Kyouya sat to her right as he replied, "The last month has not afforded many chances in particular to visit the rest of Rakushou."

"I've spent a considerable amount of time in the last ten years 'strolling' about markets," Sayuri added. "I hope to make these trips more routine. It was nice to be out today."

She gazed at the steaming clay teapot sitting in the middle of the table. By the way the proprietor fidgeted nervously to the side, the lunch setting was no doubt the best they had to offer; he bowed deeply as he stepped forward and nervously demonstrated brewing a pot of oolong, and as he was pouring her a cup of tea, Sayuri gestured at the empty chair beside Choyian.

"Please sit with us, good sir, and let me pour you a cup for welcoming me into your esteemed establishment," She said, "It is by your grace that we have a meal to eat and a place to rest our feet after a long morning's walk."

The wide grin that split Choyian's face was hard to ignore. At her side, Kyouya dipped his head lightly, though she knew to take it as his own tacit approval.

But the owner and proprietor bowed at the waist again, uttering how honored he was. The minister gave him a pat on the shoulder, and as Sayuri poured their third guest a cup of tea, she mentally prepared a number of topics of which they could all speak about.

There would only be more talk about tea culture and the history of the teahouse district in Rakushou, but Sayuri felt that this was the rightful way to spend their lunch, and she listened in to the proprietor's chatter, her mind at ease.

Being bowed to and being treated with great reverence by the common folk would always take some time to get used to. It was akin to the first day she spent in Kou, where people flooded the streets and chanted her name as she passed them by in her palanquin—she'd never met these people, and hadn't done anything for them, but still they paid their respects, like she was some great hero. She did not deserve any of their regard, but still they offered it up to her.

She thought back to her thoughts, just as they'd been entering the teahouse: did she make them nervous and anxious because she was the Crown Princess? Did they respect her and were eager to please her because she was married to Kouen, the dread champion of the Kou Empire? Did they do all these things because she was royalty, and her station—which was far above their own—demanded their fealty?

These were pointless questions to have.

 _Yes,_ she thought to herself as she ate another dumpling. _To all three._

 _Obviously._

But that didn't stop her from feeling an overwhelming sense of duty and responsibility. She'd often felt the same way when she was younger and had a different husband, but the conclusion she'd come to had always stayed the same: Sayuri had to prove herself worthy of her title and the esteem of the common folk that came with it.

She glanced to her right. Having Kyouya's presence at her side was calming. The stoic-faced ambassador was presently engaged with the two other men at their table, and his familiar voice full of calm reason and steady support was something she realized she would sorely miss.

But it would be unwise to depend on him any longer than she already had; he was part of the Jishouan delegation.

Sayu glanced to her left. Choyian Chen sat, happily discussing his tea preferences. The proprietor was hooked on the conversation as well, but behind both of them was a sweeping window with its covers drawn, and the tall walls of the imperial palace loomed overhead.

* * *

The sky had darkened from its original clear blue to a grey; steadily, clouds rolled in and as night fell so did the thunder and rain. It was not quite a deluge, but it was heavy enough to muddy roads and hamper travel to the palace, and thus a war council had to be canceled. Kouen took the extra time to sort out military logistics with Koumei.

The thunder rolled and boomed, and they'd had to close secure the windows in his brother's study to avoid the lights from going out.

"It doesn't bode well for tomorrow's weather," Koumei said tiredly, setting a scroll down.

"It would seem so."

"I'll make the necessary preparations. However…"

Kouen looked up at that, lifting one brow at Koumei.

The younger man was stared fruitlessly at the closed windows. And then at the candles who were running low, obviously judging the amount of time they'd passed going over military operations together. He uncharacteristically fiddled with the fan of Dantalion as he spoke, "I don't believe we've received word of Sayuri's return to the palace yet."

As if on cue, there was another clap of thunder that resonated through the dimly lit room.

"They were supposed to return sometime mid afternoon," Koumei muttered quietly, as if to himself. "Strange that they would be delayed this long."

"We're finished here," Kouen replied. "Let me handle this."

His brother nodded, smothering his yawn with his fan. But still he contemplated the tightly closed windows on the one side of his study. Sayuri was still on his mind, it would seem, and as Kouen exited the room he made sure to send in one of his brother's attendants with a cup of chamomile.

Some of the hallways were wet with the rain, but he paid no mind to them as he made the short walk to his wing of the palace; some of the Jishouan guardsmen were stationed near Sayuri's chambers, but he saw no sign of his wife, or the bodyguard she brought with her everywhere she went.

It was only an hour later when Seishuu stepped into his study and informed him of the news. Sayuri's traveling party had finally made its way back into the imperial complex, and she'd been spotted heading in the direction of the imperial archives, Choyian Chen and Kyouya Korechika in tow.

And it was only another hour later when she hadn't returned to their wing that Kouen wrapped himself in his cloak, took his sword, and headed to the archives himself.

The towering building smelt of musty scrolls and wood, and the rain only exacerbated the scent. His footsteps were silent against the aged wooden floors, and his lantern only illuminated the path a few steps before him in the archives steeped in darkness. He followed the sound of voices, and as he drew nearer, he recognized his wife's quiet, lilting voice.

"Ah well today _was_ good, but the rain was unexpected, wasn't it? I felt bad once we arrived at Lady Ruyi's, she was worried the water would ruin my robes."

There was a clear undercurrent of amusement in her tone. Someone shuffled their feet, and a man's voice spoke: "Surely you don't plan on staying here longer, after today."

It was the Ambassador, Korechika.

"Only for a little more. I'm sure _you,_ however, have to head back now," His wife teased. "Thank you, for accompanying me back to the palace. You didn't have to, but you did. Thank you."

A pause. And then the sound of a sigh, and Korechika's voice having gone just as quiet as Sayuri's: "…anything, as always, Sayu. Good night to you."

Kouen met him between the bookshelves just as he was leaving. The man greeted him with an intensely pensive expression, but stopped and bowed as was appropriate when he saw Kouen standing there.

"Your Highness," He uttered. The Crown Prince merely nodded, before passing him without a second glance and turning the corner to where Sayuri was.

There were considerably more lanterns in her small area, where tables were pushed up against each other and books and scrolls and chairs were scattered about. Her jet black cloak was slung over one of the empty chairs, while she sat leisurely on another chair, her bare feet thrown over the arm of her seat; her elbow rested on the other chair arm, and she cradled her cheek in her palm as she held up a piece of paper to read.

He held his burning lantern low, so he was mostly shadowed in between the bookshelves. Sayuri, it seemed, had been burning the candle at both ends, and had found something to read as soon as she returned from her excursion that day.

Kouen stepped forward. The noise startled Sayuri, as she quickly looked up.

"Oh," The princess breathed, setting the paper on the desk. She put her feet down and stood, regarding him. Sayuri pursed her lips for a moment, before greeting, "Good, ah, evening, Kouen."

It was a habit of hers to stop whatever it was she was doing and acknowledge him whenever they met. He dipped his head in reply, and she looked back at her desk, her fingers twitching.

She looked out of place in the archives that night. She wore shades of burgundy, vibrant green, and white—a lighter version of the traditional Kou colors, and in her long silver hair that was already unraveling from its bun she still loosely wore the silver crane he'd gifted her the morning after their wedding.

It was a stark contrast to the darkness and orange light the candles cast upon the archives, as well as the steady beating of the rain overhead, but here Sayuri was anyway.

She had surprised him with her declaration yesterday.

To say _I am yours, whenever you need me,_ to your husband was not untoward, but to hear it coming from her had been strange. He had not expected her to say it—but it was something he'd known implicitly all along, and he had expected her to understand it the same way. They were husband and wife, partner and partner, belonging to each other. That was always how he'd understood it, and to have it affirmed in words was needless.

Yet still he found himself frowning at her presence in the archives that night, with the thunderstorm raging outside. He began, "You were expected much earlier."

There had been a hint of censure in his tone. Why else would Sayuri be tilting her head at him playfully, a silver brow lifted in defiance? "Did Minister Choyian not send word that we would be touring the eastern market as well?"

"I asked Chen to accompany you as a request," He pointed out. "Whatever he does is his own will."

She seemed to process this.

It seemed something was on her mind. He was familiar with the way her forehead creased ever so slightly, and her pale green eyes turned distant as she thought something through. It was a calculating expression Kouen saw on her often, even when they weren't speaking to each other.

"Can I ask…how you know him?"

Kouen sat at one of the empty chairs. It was directly across where she'd been sitting, with her cloak slung over it, and she sat down too as he absently pondered her question. Why was she asking?

"Choyian Chen served as one of the former Emperor's generals. Chen retired from his post in the army when he passed away."

"…and then Choyian was made a minister for trade after. Is that so?"

He nodded.

"I see." Her stare was far-off as she contemplated his words. But then she blinked, and her eyes were clear again, squarely locking with his. "You could have told me, though. I had fully been expecting to spend the day with Kyouya."

"I could have," The prince conceded. "I was busy,"

Sayuri instantly sniffed at his words, regarding him with faint derision. "Really?"

Kouen then added, with his own brow raised, "And I was uncertain on whether or not he was accepting. He told me he would think upon the matter."

"Yes, you asked it of him," She said aloud.

Sayuri looked at him curiously.

"Why did you?"

Was that what this was about? She spent an ordinate amount of time doubting his motives, when he bore her no ill will. Kouen never had.

"There is none more familiar with trade than a trade minister, wouldn't you agree? And I trusted Chen to point you in the right path while navigating the markets."

"Were you trying to help me?"

He stared at her, this time. The question had been asked point blank, without pause. Kouen merely smirked. She was still far too suspicious.

"Yes, of course. You are my wife, are you not? It is my lot to help you, as your husband."

And he had surmised early on how much she was interested about that sort of thing. How could he have not? She always savored teas and specified what kind of blend she served, if she offered him a cup; she exchanged information with Koumei about the food they were eating, she discussed fabrics when she met Ruyi Qi.

The obliging reply was met with silence. Sayuri, his usually meticulously composed wife who had a retort ready for any instance, seemed genuinely surprised and speechless at his answer.

He found it amusing.

"You should know by now that I am yours," He purposely kept his tone deadpan when he echoed her words from yesterday.

Sayuri's eyes narrowed at him.

Then she sourly replied, "If I'd known earlier that you had a real sense of humor, _my dear husband_ , we would've had more interesting conversations by now."

"I would say we've done well thus far," He uttered drolly. "If that's what you wished."

Sayu tilted her head at him, as if she'd come to examine him in a new light.

She didn't deign his rejoinder with another reply, but instead she looked away, and sincerely said: "Let me thank you, then. Minister Choyian was most helpful today.

"But you don't mention Koumei's involvement."

The prince could tell it was a point of contention for her, and he seamlessly countered with: "I asked him to make sure you were well-protected. What he does is also his own will.

"The reason I'm here is to see with my own eyes that you've returned safely. My brother trusts no one else, and at this hour has probably dozed for a long nap. When he awakens he will be anxious to receive word of your wellbeing, word that I can give him."

"And what? No concern for _me?"_

The mock was sharp, and her eyes showed no amusement at all. But Kouen was unfazed. "It goes without saying, like many other things, that I want to keep you safe."

It was ironic that he had to remind her of all these things, because _she_ had been the one that had been married before their own union came into being.

But, he supposed, some things were better off said.

Sayuri sighed and raised one delicate hand to her head, to pull the silver hairpin out of her hair.

The long strands tumbled around her face and she gazed at the ornament he'd given her for a split second, before tucking it into her robes and rising from her seat.

She combed a hand through her hair as she approached him, and took the paper she'd previously been reading in another. "Now I presume I owe you an explanation for why I've been here so late."

As she handed him the paper, he was afforded a closer look at it: under the candlelight, he could make out the folds in the paper and the formal handwriting of a carefully constructed business letter addressed to Sayuri.

"All the merchant houses in the Triangle know I'm a princess of Kou, now," She said by way of explanation. "Inquiring minds have been writing to me. Minister Choyian and Kyouya were in here with me sorting through it all; this is just one of the letters that I want to pass on to the minister tomorrow."

He handed the piece back to her. This was something he concerned himself little with, and it was obvious the matter was already being handled by someone competent.

"The hour is late, Sayuri."

Sayuri merely snorted in reply, gathered her papers, and began to put out the candles one by one.

Kouen rose from his seat, gathering her cloak from the back of the chair and patiently holding it out for her as she slipped her shoes on.

* * *

He had to slip his own cloak over her to protect the letters she was holding, because the walk to their wing was not entirely unhampered by the rains.

Her silver hair was stuck to her forehead, and she peeled his damp cloak off of her, offering it to him with something approaching a crooked smile on her face. "Here."

A few of her guards, who'd followed them from the archives, hovered concernedly in the background. But Sayuri's eyes were clearly on him, and he took his cloak back by the gold pauldron attached to it and folded the long fabric in his arms.

Kouen nodded, and she disappeared into her own chambers with nothing more than a simple quirk of her lips tossed at him over her shoulder. Her guards arranged themselves into place, but they nodded respectfully as he passed them on the way to his own chambers on the other side of the square hallway.

Seishuu and Gaku Kin were by his doors, but inside, it was only him in his rooms. After he made sure to send a note to his brother about Sayuri's safe arrival, he gazed at his too-wide bed sitting patiently on the other end of the chamber, waiting for him. He set aside his cloak and his sword in its scabbard.

Outside, the rain continued its harsh pounding. The thunder echoed in his empty chamber.

He blew out the last candle on his bedside table. Then Kouen laid on his side, occupying only half of his bed.

* * *

The princess had insisted on a bath before sleeping, but when Davvid came back to her bedchamber she was already changed into her sleeping robes, penning some kind of letter at a low table.

The magister read a scant few lines over her shoulder, _Not much has happened thus far, though Kou itself and the Imperial Family are truly disorienting at times to deal with…_

"Got something for me?" He asked with the beginnings of a grin. It seemed like she was writing something for the kid, Alihaddra—and he stifled the mental image of a ridiculously-happy-but-trying-his-damnedest-to-restrain-it Ali as he held his princess's letter in his hands.

Sayu chuckled, shaking her head. "Unfortunately, no. It's not truly an emergency if I'm just asking for his advice and writing to him about how quaint my days are, here."

The reply made him sit down before her and survey the princess critically. "Now, you're _sure_ about this? I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind getting a letter from you."

 _In fact he'd be waiting for it,_ his mind internally added.

The princess, it seemed, was finished with her letter as she put her brush down and waited for the ink to dry. She yawned, before looking at him with a smile. "I'm sure. Kyouya will be returning to the Triangle in a bit, so he can take the letter with him and make sure it gets into the hands of the right people."

"But that would take _ages_."

Sayu shrugged. Then she stood, and made her way over to her bed. Davvid followed curiously, and Fuu was also standing nearby, holding a tray with the princess's drained cup of nightly tea. "Worry not. That's the way it's always been between us."

The princess turned to him one last time, her smile frozen on her mouth. "And I'll still be here when his reply arrives. However long it takes."

* * *

Notes:

Sorry about the late update, but uni is _crazy_ _._ And I just switched majors! I also stumble on a lot of interesting historical things while researching for this fic, but either way I end up telling myself while writing, "it doesn't even have to be _that_ historically accurate...this is Magi we're talking about, remember?"

(1) Title is a reference to that novel - _Far From the Madding Crowd_ , which in itself is a reference, hey. This chapter's a collection of POVs from different people (a "crowd"), so...take that as you will.

(2) It's kinda weird how Sayu and Kouen's married life ended up. Imo, Kouen is really busy as general commander of the _entire Kou army_ , and doesn't really care about a lot of court functions, so his marriage is sidelined on his list of priorities. Not that either of them seem to mind...for now.

(3) A response to _morpheusandmuse_ 's anon review: [nervous laugh] thank you for your kind words! I'm sorry if Sayuri is kind of lost about her role in Kou, but in these chapters we're going to get down to the nitty gritty about it. I really do hope I don't disappoint, since I _am_ excited to write the stuff's that going to go down next. And I can only keep my lips sealed about the rest of your wonderful review! Ah!

As always, thanks to everyone that faved, followed, and reviewed this fic - it's always a pleasure. Plus, I had a swell time reading last chapter's reviews, ahaha. Leave me a note if you've any constructive criticism, questions, concerns, etc. They're always welcome :-)


	16. Mass-murdering & Much-suffering

**16**

 _Mass-murdering & Much-suffering_

" _ **There'll be a letter waiting for you back East. She's sending it all the way back to the desert, you know**_."

Sunset came and with it a rush of scholars looking to settle in for dinner; their footsteps echoed in the stone colonnade, and Kuja watched as one large glowing disc of orange perched itself low in the sky, by the point of a sun-bleached minaret.

He bid a good evening to a passing scholar in white robes, and as he walked alone in the courtyard, he sat on a bench by the fountains. The day was fast turning cool, and he twirled the crystal he held in his hand. It radiated heat and glowed with the magoi he funneled into its tiny crystalline form; across the Tenzan Plateau and the Jiniyan Peninsula, Davvid held a twin and funneled his own magoi into it.

Kuja had gone a long way from home, nearing the province of Qishan. Here, there was naught but the city and arid desert for miles and miles; camels and caravans, incense and well-traveled spices, and the blazing sun that hung above all.

"Her patience for a reply must be infinite," He commented, a chuckle escaping his mouth. "It will be months before I return."

" _ **Oh, she knows,"**_ A pause. Then Davvid's low, gravelly voice buzzed after a beat: _**"She isn't treating this like it's a one-time assignment anymore. She knows she's…she knows she's stuck here forever."**_

It was hard not to miss the small notes of accusation in his voice. The sky bled a violent red now, and bells throughout the city tolled the end of the day, calling everyone to their homes.

The magister just smiled wryly to himself, dipping his head in quiet acceptance of the blame.

"I— _We_ never expected any less," Kuja said, simply. "What else is there to say?"

* * *

This was Rakushou: the crown jewel of an empire only 30 years in the making, whose sole pretense was the imperial palace in its center. It was a city that thrived in rigidity and uniformity, whose citizens were loyal to the imperial family and the imperial family alone; its streets, which she had toured yesterday, arranged itself in perfect symmetries—there were square houses within square compounds, within a square on a larger square grid.

Hakuei's tearoom was on the second level of the imperial palace. It displayed the brilliance of Rakushou's urban planning, and her fondness of looking upon it—"It's a pity that the rainstorm continued; I love the view, since I'm never really home much these days, and my rooms used to be at the very back of the complex," the princess said as she put her teacup down and smiled. "I asked to be moved here, you know. Luckily, Kouen—"

Sayuri took a soundless bite out of a ricecake. It was chewy and sugar sweet; she had come to like the Kou variety, in her months-long stay.

"—that is, Lord Kouen—he helped me with my request."

She supposed it was beautiful, in a way, to see everything so structured and organized. Rakushou was unlike the capital cities of other empires and nations in that it lacked the lavish public works—the libraries, the arenas, the monuments—that distinguished those other capital cities.

 _It must have been strange,_ something in the back of her mind said as she began to consider Hakuei's words, _to have asked something of the sort from the son of the man who usurped your own brother's claim to the throne, the same man who married your mother, right after your own father's death._

But as it were they were only two members of the imperial family having tea together on one rainy morning. The invitation for it had been the first message Sayuri had gotten since waking up late, and she had hastened to the other side of the imperial complex just to see Hakuei.

She would not go so far as to call them allies, yet there was something undeniable about the softness in the eighteen year old's eyes, and part of Sayuri refused to believe that someone so young was only stringing her along with her kind words and entreaties to tea.

Never mind that Sayuri was only twenty-four herself; she had lived enough lives in court to know that nobody had noble, let alone innocent, intentions. But there was something about Hakuei she couldn't ignore—whereas the rest of the imperial family seemed content to keep to themselves, Hakuei had welcomed her openly and called her _sister_. Hakuryuu had been a somber presence during that declaration, but Hakuei's white-blue eyes had shone with warmth the whole time through.

It was compelling. It was perplexing. It was what brought her to her wing of the palace, that morning.

"One of the ministers once told me that Rakushou was the former emperor's vision for the entirety of the Kou Empire, in one city," Sayu spoke.

Hakuei smiled. "It was. My father wanted many things for Kou, one of them was its proper planning and organization."

"He sounds like he was a great man," was her quiet reply.

The younger woman merely nodded, her smile growing ever so regretful. "He truly was," and in another beat, she locked eyes with Sayuri once again, a playful brow raising itself: "That minister who told you was Lord Chen, wasn't it? You didn't tell me you were friends with him."

For a moment Sayuri was intrigued by the use of _Lord Chen_ instead of _Minister Choyian,_ as Sayu herself would've addressed such a high-ranking servant of the empire. The brief moment before that however she spared for surprise and cringing slightly—she wouldn't really call the old man a _friend_ either, and she hadn't anticipated Hakuei knowing the man…

She decided to be truthful: "I wouldn't presume to know how I stood with the minister," then she added after a quiet breath, "I didn't know you knew His Excellency either. But it would make sense, wouldn't it? He…used to be a general."

"I wouldn't worry. He speaks highly of you," Hakuei promised with a sweet chuckle. "And—yes, he used to go on campaigns with my father. He was even named Hakuryuu's godfather, you see."

 _That_ shocked her. And Kouen hadn't known that? Or—and this seemed more likely in Sayu's mind—perhaps he hadn't found it relevant to him, and therefore relevant to her. "But he retired."

The smile on Hakuei's face stilted once more. And before their topic of conversation turned to other things, before their friendship truly began to blossom, the younger princess and Captain in the Kou army uttered: "War takes from everyone."

* * *

They were later called away on the Empress's summons. Gyokuen would be meeting them in her own tearoom, which meant she and Hakuei walked the long and winding halls of the imperial palace together as they headed in the direction of the main keep.

"To be a desirable bride in Jishou, one must be versed in a lot of things," Sayuri said in answer to a question Hakuei had made, a smile taking over her face. "Poetry, art, music…conversation. Dancing too, especially." She looked at the younger princess with a brow raised: "You don't do a lot of dancing here in Kou, don't you?"

Hakuei shook her head with a laugh, as if the idea was absurd. "No—no. I mean…" The eighteen year old said wide-eyed, staring at her earnestly curious, "What kind of dancing do you do, in Jishou? Here, the peasants do it of course. But in the palace we only reserve it for…for dancers, as you know. And if…"

Her pale face went pink, even as Hakuei's voice kept steady. "…if you want to please your husband."

Sayuri's brows shot up. "That's a very different kind of dancing. Very _private_ , between husband and wife. I see."

Hakuei's jaw dropped at her words. "I— _Sayuri—!"_

There was both incredulity and shock in Hakuei's now red face. But they both began to crack up at the insinuation. Sayu snickered.

"Well, dancing is more of a social thing we do in Jishou," She commented lightheartedly. Indeed—that was not only the case in Jishou, but in the entire Triangle. It was a practice that had originated in Ariavat but had soon spread to the other countries, and was now a well-shared pastime even in the aristocracy and upper classes. "We have games and music in every banquet. And lots of food."

She snuck a secretive look at Hakuei. "And what about you _,_ Hakuei? Do you dance a lot? Surely, being so familiar with the subject, you…"

Sayuri wriggled a single brow, letting the rest of her words go unsaid. The princess just giggled, though her face was still burning. "No—no—unless you consider swordplay a dance too."

"It's a fine dance," She complimented sincerely. "Exceedingly complicated! To be a captain at the age of eighteen, I expect you must be a very good swordfighter."

Hakuei just continued to glow. "Thank you."

She—she was a very beautiful girl, Sayu thought, as she grinned back at the younger princess's wide smile. It made her wonder if Gyokuen and Koutoku considered a marriage already, when she knew the rest of Hakuei's half-sisters had already been married off.

On the other hand however, Hakuei was in the military, an important arm of the imperial family's influence there. She was important to Kouen's operations, and she would not disappear into some lord's household as easily as every other princess.

 _She has quite a bit of leverage,_ Sayu realized. She asked playfully of Hakuei, "Have you ever thought of the kind of dancing that requires a partner, though? It's freeing. And it makes you realize how much you value some people over others, not only because of their footwork. It can be so intimate, sometimes. And still very enjoyable. Sharing a dance with a friend is a sacred thing."

The princess stared off to the side. But she fanned her long lashes, so alike to Gyokuen, and said: "Yes. The way you describe it, it sounds wonderful."

"I just happen to have wonderful dancing partners," Sayu said, gently. Then she stared straight ahead of her, at the stretch of imperial hallway lying in wait for them. "Had, anyway. As you said, I know you don't dance very much here in Kou."

It was as if Hakuei sensed the shift in her mood. The raven-haired Captain peered at her with a smile, and asked eagerly, like she was trying to cheer her up, "Was there anyone in particular?"

Sayuri silently lauded her, even if it only succeeded in making her a bit more nostalgic. She had had many dance partners over the years, and having toured the Triangle for so long and been warmly welcomed into many societies, she had gotten to know many people.

There was one person, however, who she had always enjoyed dancing with. "One man, a prince who I've known since I was a child. We've always danced together when we knew the other person to be in attendance of the same party."

"You must cherish him deeply," Hakuei said.

Sayu nodded, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "He has always been my friend."

Then she leaned into the younger princess, whispering, "Anyone _you_ cherish so deeply, Hakuei?"

At Hakuei's light laugh, Sayuri chuckled. She just tilted her head knowingly at the princess. "It's not uncommon for someone your age to like someone in the military. Those soldier uniforms are irresistible—and to always be encamped, and to travel so much during a campaign…you must know a lot of men. Brave men. Courageousmen. Truly noble men, as some people say."

Save for a select few areas where the activities of the Kou military overlapped with Jishou's and with trade, everything else was entirely foreign and unwelcoming to Sayuri. But she did not say this to Hakuei.

She could, however, speak on a general basis about soldiers. And: it wasn't as if she was innocent of falling for military men either. Heaven knew just how much she herself had swooned over men who could wield a sword and a spear when she was younger.

A simpler time, it had been.

To her surprise, Hakuei seemed to struggle with her answer. Her once pale, heart-shaped face was reddening again in earnest, as she knit her brows and sputtered "I—I—really—"

Sayuri narrowed her eyes, a sly smile taking over her face. "Oh, you **do** have somebody in mind, don't you?"

The princess looked away guiltily at that. Sayu grinned, opening her mouth to speak—"Who…who is it, then? If you don't mind me asking?"

"It's…"

But their conversation was cut short as a set of doors to their left were opened, and again Sayuri was surprised to see her husband come out with Koumei following not far behind him, caught up in a cluster of assistants and scrolls. She and Hakuei were both halted in their path as the two brothers turned to see them come up the hallway.

"Oh, hello, Kouen," Sayu blinked. To her side, she watched Hakuei curtsy hurriedly, and briefly she wondered if she should curtsy too.

The thought was interrupted by her husband's voice calling her name, "Sayuri." It was just as surprised as hers had been.

Sayu watched Kouen glance at the younger princess beside her, "Hakuei."

Koumei had finally seemed to disentangle himself from the bevy of servants, and had walked up to the three of them; seeing Hakuei's curtsy, he returned it by clasping his hands and bowing.

But Sayuri's eyes were locked on Kouen's, by then.

They were the same narrowed crimson, and her lips twitched at the unspoken question she easily read in them: _where are you both headed to?_

She, however, chose to speak out loud. "We're headed to the Empress's chambers, we've been summoned. We were just having tea before this, though."

Hakuei nodded in confirmation. Her hands were clasped behind her now—but she was staring to the side, not really looking Kouen in the eye, which Sayuri found a little strange.

Sayu turned to smile at Koumei. His was a face she hadn't seen in a while. "Hello, Koumei."

There was a tugging on the corners of his lips, a small smile of his if she had ever seen one. "Hello, Sayuri. We're headed ourselves to a meeting in the west wing with the Emperor."

 _A meeting in the west wing,_ she had come to learn, was a euphemism for _war_ _meeting_. The presence of the Emperor was what piqued her interest slightly—it must've been a meeting calling for the Kou high command.

But what did she care?

Sayuri bowed her head in acknowledgement of the information. Beside her, Hakuei spoke up in an unusually anxious voice, "It'll be about the north, won't it?"

Koumei replied with a small nod: "Yes. I expect we'll discuss your regiment's movements as well, Lady Hakuei."

"We will be late if we don't leave now," Kouen pointed out impatiently, in his low voice.

She and Hakuei bid their goodbyes. Before they parted ways, Kouen looked at her and said, "I will see you tonight."

Which had surprised her so much all she could do was nod mutely in response.

"A coincidence," Sayuri was saying, as she watched the retreating figures of her husband and her brother-in-law over her shoulder. She transferred her gaze to Hakuei, who had been doing the same, though the younger princess's brow was wrinkled.

"What is?" Hakuei blinked.

"We're going to meet the Empress in a few minutes," She shrugged. "What are the chances the Emperor would call a war meeting at the same time?"

* * *

It would not be coincidence at all, she would later learn. Everything had been planned since the beginning, all according to the imperial couple's whims.

It had planned even for its direct contradiction: when she and Hakuei entered the Empress' tearoom, the Emperor was sat at a large chair by the open windows, his wife sitting some ways across him. Scattered across the room were Kougyoku and Kouha quietly bickering over something, and Hakuryuu quietly reading in another corner.

"Ah, so you've finally come," Gyokuen said as she stood to greet them. Sayu and Hakuei remained in their low curtsy, however, waiting for Koutoku's word to rise.

Eventually, he did. He spared one glance at them both, before turning his gaze again to the open window, where the noonday was still raining and roiling with thunder. "Rise."

This was the first time she'd come so close to the Emperor since her wedding day.

And he wanted to speak to them, there was no doubt—the way he sat, the pensive arch to his brow. She could see it all, because he didn't wear his headdress this time; his head was tilted toward the view of Rakushou, but Sayuri saw that his eyes were seeing something far, far more distant.

The Emperor of Kou was contemplating something.

And if she knew anything at all about great men, about powerful men, it was that when they made their mind to speak, they expected all to hear them.

Koutoku's face was wrinkled, riddled with discolored spots. But he did not stoop nor stutter like other old men—he remained tall and proud, his broad shoulders (so much like Kouen's) outlined in his regal violet robes. Even his beard was well maintained, trimmed and oiled and still a startling shade of the deepest vermillion.

He wasn't even bald. Or balding. His thick, curling hair was just tied back with a gold clip.

"Come forward. Both of you."

This time the Emperor's voice did not roar, but still it did not request; it commanded, quietly, dangerously. She and Hakuei shared one glance before walking towards the Emperor. Gyokuen just watched them with a faint smile; she gave them one small nod of encouragement before moving to sit with Hakuryuu in his corner of the room.

Finally, the Emperor turned away from his window and grasped the armrests of his seat. Only now and up close could Sayuri see that the thing had been carved with dragons curling up and down the chair. It was large, but Koutoku was even larger—he looked at both women with a neutral expression, which Sayuri beforehand would've declared impossible.

She'd witnessed only two default expressions of the Emperor, before: his face was always sneering with malice or curling with rage.

Never something in between, as he was staring at them now.

He gave Hakuei a once-over. "You may sit," he said, before he pointed his gaze like a dagger solely and fully on Sayu.

Koutoku seemed to be assessing her. Only once before this had she ever been so close as to see the shades of red in the Emperor's cruel eyes; his eyes roved up and down, before settling on her face.

Sayu bowed her head dutifully, wondering to what reason had she suddenly received the full scrutiny of the Emperor, who after her wedding day and before this very instant, had always scrupulously pretended she didn't even exist. "Father."

That seemed to amuse him, for some reason. His lips twitched. "And how are you settling in Kou, _daughter?_ Does it please your senses enough?"

There was that undercurrent of mockery she had come to know, though in the privacy of the Empress's tearoom, it was toned down, almost subtle. Perhaps he was insinuating he knew about her romp around Rakushou yesterday. Perhaps he wasn't; merely commenting how totally different, and how totally a foreigner she was in Kou. She had been transplanted here, an outsider, and he wanted her to remember.

He need not have bothered. She wasn't likely to forget how much she had been isolated from her parents, and from everything she had previously known.

 _I would never forget,_ she thought scornfully.

Sayuri kept her own voice neutral, knowing the Emperor wouldn't be fooled by false smiles and titters, "The people of Kou have a different way of doing things, but difference doesn't detract from efficiency. Or efficacy, or even ingenuity."

Sayuri meant every word. Rakushou lived in rigidity and regulation, but somehow it thrived, and there was order. Her visit yesterday had only proved that. She was not exactly thrilled to have been ripped from her family and friends, but she acknowledged the Kou way of life.

Her words constructed, if nothing else, a careful, judicious answer.

"A diplomat, aren't you," The Emperor said, his voice suddenly devoid of any emotion. It reminded her so much of Kouen's own monotone voice that she blinked upon hearing it. "My son didn't tell me he brought home a diplomat."

Sayuri paused, genuinely wondering what he was getting at. She stared at him critically. Earnestly. "I…don't know what you mean, Your Majesty."

It had been a mistake. He seemed to be infuriated by her answer.

Koutoku suddenly sat back on his chair like a throne, a _tsk_ escaping his lips. The motion wrinkled the silk of his fine robes, and he restlessly palmed an armrest, which had a dragon's gaping maw carved into its end, the teeth crafted in sharp and meticulously aligned rows.

He was staring straight into her face again, and while it made the back of her neck sweat, it seemed like he was seeing right through her; like he could see each and every thought forming in her little head, and as his mouth thinned, she knew whatever he saw, he was either displeased or annoyed by.

The Emperor stood. He towered over her as he drew closer and closer with each step.

Eventually she had to tilt her head to look up to him, which was nearly blasphemous in the Kou court. When he stood so close, no one would look the Emperor square in the eye like so.

Yet she would not—could not—look away. This was the man who had demeaned her the very moment she had step foot in his court, the man who had mocked her for all to see and then ignored her, only to suddenly call upon her once more.

He was the man who was practically demanding her attention when he tried to corner like this, like he relished in being the predator that hounded her at every turn.

And what else would she do but oblige him, however scornfully?

"Then tell me," Koutoku began carefully, his voice almost an insidious whisper hissing in her ears, "why one of the provinces of _my. EMPIRE. IS SUING FOR_ _ **PEACE.**_ _UNDER_ _ **YOUR NAME!"**_

By the end of it, his voice had risen to a shout that had made Kougyoku cower in terror, while Kouha, Hakuryuu, and Hakuei looked on in complete shock.

Sayuri stared at the Emperor, utterly and completely not grasping a single thing he had shouted in her ears, wondering if she had heard anything correctly. "What?"

Gyokuen was at her side, immediately. There were hands on her shoulders, and the Empress looked at Koutoku with reproach. "Koutoku! Is that any way to speak to Kouen's wife?"

 _Is that any way,_ Sayuri thought as she looked to the side, assessing the situation as fast as she could, _to speak to anyone?_

Had she heard correctly? What did that even mean? That a province of Kou wanted peace…"under her name?" Were they not at peace now?

And why _her?_

In her peripheral view, she watched as Hakuei got up from her seat to approach the three of them. "Does that mean," She breathed with real, mounting fear in her eyes, "that the north has truly risen in revolt?"

Koutoku started pacing. He wore a path in the sumptuous carpets as he spat out, "Those barbarian tribes have united." Then the Emperor turned to her again, the fire in his eyes suddenly burning with rage barely contained by Gyokuen's rebuke—"So you. _You say you have no part in this?"_

"If you mean I _incited_ a rebellion—"

The thought was so ridiculously impossible that she was taken aback by how serious the Emperor took it. _**Her**_? The eastern wife of Kouen, a foreign woman with no connections, who had never even left Rakushou, _she_ had something to do with a province of Kou revolting?

"No, she couldn't have," Gyokuen's hands were still warm upon her shoulders. They lifted, and the Empress stood at Sayuri's side, grasping Sayuri's fingers in reassurance. "Could you, Sayuri? You have been in conference with the trade ministers only this spring, you could not have done anything."

It came as no surprise that her activities were known to the Empress, but Sayuri was still shaken by the accusation that she had been scheming to harm the Empire. She had never interfered with Kou's military affairs in her short stay, and had never once even spoken about it to Kouen. And _she_ was being accused of treason?

 _Who or what is the source of this,_ her mind automatically turned to.

 _And to what end?_

Koutoku stopped. He turned to face them all again, breathing deeply. He pulled something out of his robes—a small, folded square of paper that he then threw at their feet.

"Tell me," Koutoku snapped, "why is there a letter asking for _your_ intercession in a peace treaty with the barbarians from the governor of Qileng?"

He stepped closer, and it took all her self-discipline not to retreat from this man that she had spoken to for all but four times.

He was so close and his hands had risen from their place by his sides, "Answer me!" he thundered, when she did not reply.

Peace treaty.

Barbarians.

Qileng.

Governor.

This—it was absurd. She had never even strung a phrase, a sentence, in relation to any of this, she had never even heard of the province of _Qileng_ before this—

 _Nothing—_ she thought frantically— _nothing makes sense._

"ANSWER ME!"

Koutoku raised one ringed finger and placed it on the column of her neck, tracing a path that edged toward her jaw.

It trembled, and his knuckles clenching his fist were sheet white, as if he was literally shaking with rage, as if he was only a few small moments away from striking her.

His finger moved from her jaw to her chin, and he tipped her head up, like he was a butcher inspecting an animal whose throat he was about to slit from end to end.

Sayuri's heart tripped, her chest pounding, as she gazed deeper into the Emperor's eyes and saw only her pale, frightened reflection in them.

She breathed one ragged breath; it would not do to show cowardice at such a critical juncture. If she backed down from this, if she gave a meek and frightened answer, what would Koutoku think of her? That his belief in her being nothing more than a weak woman with a foreign title was justified? That she was easily cowed into submission to his every urge?

And yet—

There was a very real danger that he would hurt her. His finger was painful against the soft, fleshy skin of the underside of her chin; she was not his wife, nor his concubine, but she may as well have been, because he would beat her anyway. He was Emperor, and he was beyond reproach.

He had always had such a reputation for brutality, clinging to him like an ever-present mist.

 _Damn it all,_ and here she swallowed, choking back the fear lodged in her throat. She should be unafraid of tyrants, of despots. She should be unafraid of being hurt in the process of standing up for what was right—wasn't that what she had done, before?

Briefly, she screwed her eyes shut, and Alexander's face flashed in the black of her mind.

Then she stared back at the Emperor, uttering, with all the strength and venom she could muster, taking extra care to keep the quiver out of her voice, "No. I know _nothing_ about this. I am innocent of whatever you're accusing me of."

And slowly, she raised her own hands.

She took his much bigger fist in her own more delicate, uncalloused hand, lowering it from her chin. As she surveyed the scene around her, she saw the children of the imperial family's reaction to what the Emperor had just done to her vary from shock to utter horror to disgust.

The Empress was staring at her with pity, and it had been Hakuei who'd had the indignity of having to bend over to pick the square-folded paper from the floor, which now lay open in her trembling hands.

"It's—it's true," The younger princess said. She looked at the Emperor with heavily veiled anger, but when she turned to Sayuri, her gaze turned pained and regretful, as if conveying, _I'm sorry I let him threaten you._ "The governor—Lord Hanzuo…he was asking for you, Sayuri. Even if it was to a private letter to his daughter here in court—he was completely serious. He _wants_ you to intercede on behalf of him and the Empire, against the tribes."

Sayuri's ears had somehow tuned out the rest of the speech the moment she'd said _it's true._

When she noticed Hakuei's mouth had stopped moving, she held out her hand. "Please…Princess Hakuei."

* * *

The letter turned out to be even stranger than she had thought.

Hanzuo Guang had been the governor of Kou's Qileng province; for years and years the tribes had raided the Kou fortresses installed up north, but now they had banded together and threatened an actual uprising that could wipe out the northern garrison…as well as Hanzuo himself.

But the governor had heard of her, Sayuri Jie, the new wife of the General Commander of the Kou forces. Hanzuo could not bring himself to plead for Kouen's help, fearing her husband would sooner raze Qileng and scour the province for every traitor until only the women and children were left alive. And so Hanzuo had turned to her: the Crown Princess, the woman who held Kouen's ear, who in turn held the Emperor's ear.

And crazier still: he had heard of her, of her past. Of her past titles; of her past husband. His demise, and what role she had played.

Surely, being who she was, she could convince the imperial family to spare the lives of everyone in Qileng. Surely she could broker a peace between the barbarian tribes and the Empire of Kou, if only she would make the travel north in the next two weeks…

All of this, he had outlined in a letter addressed to his sole daughter, who was serving as one of Gyokuen's ladies-in-waiting at court.

It was poorly written: every line she had read was more outlandish than the last, and Hanzuo's increasing desperation shone through every hastily penned plea. It was like reading the thoughts of a man falling slowly into insanity, but was cruelly unaware of it: _I know this is the last thing we can do for these people, but we must try, we must try, surely you understand, we must reach the Crown Princess somehow…_

* * *

Sayuri resisted the urge to crumple the letter in her fist. It had not escaped her notice that Hanzuo's daughter was in Gyokuen's employ; she looked to the Empress, quietly asking, "Did his daughter approach you, Your Majesty?"

Gyokuen nodded gravely, her hand lifting to shield her mouth, as was her habit. "Yes; I brought the matter to the Emperor immediately. But know this: I never doubted your innocence, not even once, Sayuri."

She bowed her head, in deep thanks.

'We must reach the Crown Princess somehow…'

The letter had repeated that line over and over again. Perhaps Gyokuen took this to be a sign of how truly desperate and helpless Hanzuo was, to be asking the help of a complete stranger.

And perhaps Koutoku had construed it as something else. After all: when confronted with something already outrageous, one would begin to think of other strange things.

Then she remembered: part of the Jishouan fleet traveled courses passing dangerously close to the coastal provinces bordering Qileng. They covered supply routes for the Empire, as was part of their alliance's terms, that ran from Rakushou to Darrieh, and even as far as the provinces bordering the Tenzan Plateau.

Slowly, how Koutoku came to the conclusion that she was a traitor to Kou from this hopeless request for her help, was illuminated.

This was perhaps how it went: Hanzuo was secretly collaborating with the barbarian horde all along. She had already been acquainted with Hanzuo, and the letter was a ploy to get her to Qileng. She was secretly supporting the rebellion, promising the aid of Jishou in their endeavor, and together they would somehow grind the Kou Empire to dust under their heel.

It was…an elaborate, grandiose plot, of that there was no doubt.

It was also _stupid_ beyond anything imaginable.

Yet then again, stranger (stupider) things have happened. Hanzuo's letter in her hands was living proof of that.

"I understand why Your Majesty the Emperor would think I would be involved in this rebellion," Sayuri said, slowly. "I am close to my father, the King of Jishou; my backing of Qileng's revolt would mean my father's backing. It could also, possibly, mean the backing of Ariavat and Caera. Whatever coalition results from my father agreeing to help, however, would assist the tribes in throwing off the yoke of Kou's tyranny. In the revolution that would undoubtedly spill over into the other provinces, Jishou or the Triangle might gain some new territory for itself, or even fashion itself as the new master of the Eastern continent."

 _A ridiculous thought,_ she added internally.

"I refute all this, though." She gazed at the Emperor. He had seated himself again in the length of her monologue, his fingers tapping impatiently against his wooden throne. "I do not know Hanzuo Guang. I do not know his daughter. I didn't even know they existed until this point."

"So you say I have no reason to doubt your loyalty," Koutoku summarized with a growl. "Is that true?"

Sayuri clenched her jaw. That was an entirely different matter.

But hadn't she made her vows? Hadn't she sworn herself to Kouen? He was indistinguishable from Kou. Her husband was its soul, and being married to him—to be Crown Princess, to eventually be Empress one day—it meant being married to Kou itself.

 _And hadn't I made that choice, that very day in Tohouku with Kuja at my side, to accept his proposal?_

"No," She uttered plainly. "No, you do not, Your Imperial Majesty."

The Emperor shared a glance with Gyokuen.

The look between them had been so fleeting, yet Sayuri had caught it almost immediately—the brief glint in both Koutoku and Gyokuen's eyes made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

It was a knowing look they shared.

And it was at that exact same moment when Sayuri realized this entire confrontation had been planned and choreographed from the very beginning.

"You should have no problem, then, if I decide to test this loyalty of yours," The Emperor of Kou decreed.

He lifted a hand and gestured; with one flick of his wrist, her fate for the next few months had been sealed. He said carelessly, "You will go north and intercede on Kou and that pathetic fool Hanzuo's behalf. If whatever peace terms you craft with the barbarians are acceptable, then good for you, and for the barbarians; if not, then by the end of this year I promise you, _no one and nothing_ in Qileng will be left alive.

"Hakuei," He pointed one ringed finger at the princess who seemed to petrify as the Emperor turned his gaze on her, " _you_ will be the captain of her guard." A vicious smile alighted on his face, "If you succeed in keeping your brother's wife alive, I will personally see to granting you the command of your own battalion."

Having apparently no interest left in either of them, Koutoku once again turned to his window. The rain poured, and the thunder rolled.

It was as if nothing at all had happened.

He had laid the lives of every northerner in Kou on her shoulders; so eloquently had he promised their survival, and in the next breath, their extinction. These people—these people who she had never even met, let alone knew of up until this very instant, and all because of a single _letter—_

Neath her robes, her legs felt weak. She supposed it wouldn't be very far from what she was feeling, if she suddenly went on her knees in front of the Emperor. It would be a sadistic reenactment of the first time they'd met.

Beneath his own robes, Koutoku shifted his legs into a more comfortable sitting position.

And then he addressed her one last, final time, not even deigning to look her in the eye. "You married my son, girl. He has made his bed a long time ago; now, you must lie in it. This is who we are, as Kou."

* * *

Notes:

You see it's funny, because Koutoku complains about barbarian tribes, but like...he's somewhat barbaric too. And he was bound to return to this fic someday!

(1) Another reference in this chapter's title, from Euripides' _Helen,_ but translated by the (great) tumblr user _terpsikeraunos:_ 'The razing of Ilion / Falls to inimical fire / Because of me, mass-murdering / Because of my name, much-suffering.' I found it to be a good summation of the two main characters of this chapter.

(2) I use the term "barbarian" loosely, because, honestly, people throughout history have always used it to describe the "uncivilized" _other,_ often in referral of those most uncivilized of all peoples, the tribal people.

(3) A response to _morpheusandmuse's_ review: hello hello again, and thanks for deciding to stop by. I agree with your review completely; I will be trying to rectify this with the ensuing chapters (including this one). How well I've done to expand upon or take us further into Sayuri's psyche, which I honestly want to do, I leave up to your critique, however. I'm hoping you decide to stop by again, just to tell me how I'm doing on that, and other fronts.

To be honest though, I should get to work on the rest of Ch. 17. We finally do hit more of Sayuri's past, as hinted in this chapter, which was _sort_ _of_ purposefully left up to this point. And if anyone's at all interested about a little more on Alexander, I actually included him in a oneshot on Night 2 of _**1001 Nights** , _my other fic (which is a collection of oneshots, haha), thought Night 2 also includes Shiro and Kuja, and a bit of their respective backstories too.

Thanks again to everyone else that reviewed, however; theirs were the words that kept me on updating this fic. I'll be responding to everyone personally in a few hours! And to everyone who's found this fic and put it on their follows/faves list in my short hiatus - welcome!


	17. Things Still Warm

**17**

 _Things Still Warm_

North. To Qileng, to who knew what; to frozen wasteland, to mountaintops and to cutting winds perhaps; to gangs of tribesmen raring to see her head roll from her shoulders, maybe. She was being ordered north, to negotiate on behalf of an empire she was still new to.

 _I'm sure whichever poor girl they marry to Prince Kouen will be miserable._

Sayuri had said that, once upon a time. Her lips formed a wry smile—well, she wouldn't call herself miserable yet, and in any case, she was not the girl she had thought Kou would find to marry their crown prince.

She was not unwilling; she knew she was a princess, first and foremost. Of Jishou, of Caera, of the Triangle—and of Kou, now. Many people dreamed of running away to live a simpler life, like that of a farmer, or a fishwife, but she had never truly thought she could attain that—over the course of her life the thought had struck her many times, but each time she rejected it, knowing there many things she could not give up.

If she was not who she was, she would never have met her family. Kuja. Fuu. She would never have traveled so much and met so many people, and learned all she learned.

She knew who she was now. She was Ren Kouen's wife, Crown Princess of the Kou Empire, loyal daughter and subject of the Emperor. And she would be heading to Qileng, if the Emperor commanded it; she had no delusions now, after months living here.

And perhaps that was all there was to say about it. A bitter smile formed on her face.

The rain continued. Her boudoir echoed with the thunder. That afternoon would mark the second day of the rainstorm wracking the capital; there would be muddy roads and a temporary increase in grain prices in the city. Tea houses would close, and countless other people just like her would be inside, contemplating the bad weather. A cup of tea lay neglected before her on a small low table, its rim steaming with the smoky scent of her Ariavatan spices.

Earlier, she had dismissed Fuu upon going to meet Hakuei. Davvid, as always, stood just outside her doors, and at least in this one small moment she was alone, though not at peace.

Her mind wouldn't stop. It was trying to reach back into memory again—reach deeply, and her mind wouldn't stop thinking about Alexander. Hanzo Guang had presumed to know about her past, and the Emperor caught wind of it; all of this, done without her knowledge or without her consent, and she wondered what else was happening behind her back.

Ten years ago felt both like an eternity and yesterday. Alexander's face in her mind was ever clear, and yet it appeared only in flashes and visions, disappearing as soon as she blinked.

The situation was all too similar. She wasn't haunted by her decisions, the life she had lived—she _refused_ to regret, to relapse—and yet—

Luckily, her doors opened.

"You can leave today if you want, Davvid. I'll just double the guards, though I'm not really going anywhere. Sleep in my bed if you want, I know you like to nap—"

When she looked back, it was only Kouen that stood across the room. He was dripping wet, too, and without his cloak; there was no sign of emotion on his face, except for one wrinkled brow.

Dimly, she wondered why he was there in her room at all. Surely he would've known about this development; he was his father's prized son, after all.

She got up. "Kouen."

"I—"

He walked forward. It tracked mud onto her splendid Kou rugs, and he stopped upon noticing this. And then he looked to the side—and a sigh came out of his mouth.

Sayuri watched this, perplexed, and also feeling the faintest prickle of fascination. Her husband's eyes were distant as he looked away, and it was the first time she'd ever seen such an expression on him. She stepped away from where she'd been sitting, her eyes tracing the silhouette of Kouen, his wet white robes that were now clinging to his skin, outlining his broad chest and strong shoulders.

She married another warrior. She had always known. Her eyes flickered away from him to gaze at nothing in particular, and she stepped forward—as if to help him with his shoes, to look into his eyes and demand him to tell her what was going on, to slap him for his family's transgressions, she didn't know—and then stopped, caught herself.

She wanted to laugh. _What am I doing?_

He spoke first. "I know." His voice was deep, quiet. It had the same quality as Koutouku, when he wanted to make such dangerous insinuations as _my son didn't tell me he brought home a diplomat._ "You've been ordered to the Northern front. It was unveiled in the conference this morning."

It just confirmed her suspicions that the emperor had planned this since the beginning, and their dramatic confrontation in front of Hakuei and the other children had been rehearsed. Had it all been a test? To measure her loyalty? To see if she was merely a murderous snake intent on exploiting Kou for the Triangle's benefit?

 _Would the trials ever end,_ she scorned, knowing that she was being sent north as another test of her loyalty. That was what Koutouku chose to say anyway. There were other motives, surely.

"The Emperor hasn't sent word yet of exactly when I will be leaving, but I expect it to be in the next two weeks," She said out loud. She looked at her husband askance, and said wryly, "Perhaps you know when?"

Kouen didn't seem amused. He kept his emotionless façade, though he stepped out of his shoes and made quiet footfalls when he approached her. She didn't back away, merely tipped her head up to gaze at him when he came exceedingly close to where she stood.

He was trying to read her, she guessed. He didn't move an inch as she watched him survey the planes of her face; was she angry? Was she despairing? Was she lost?

Sayuri sighed.

Once, years ago, she had had a very similar conversation, with another man she had called husband, who had asked of her the same thing she was being asked of now—

"I will be leaving for the Western front as well," Kouen's voice spoke, his tone never changing, "and I have control over when you will leave. In two weeks, Sayuri."

It sounded like another order. _Like father like son,_ she supposed, and she immediately stepped away from him, her hands mindlessly reaching for a cabinet where she knew Fuu stored all her extra personal belongings. Brushes, mirrors, scrolls, and talismans there were aplenty but now she reached for another clay cup, to set down on the table for him.

She wondered again why he was here. He did not usually seek her out like this, if he wanted to speak to her. He summoned her to his chambers and met in his study; they did not have quaint conversations in her boudoir, save for that one time he returned her cloak.

And that was it.

What did he believe? Koutoku had insinuated that she would betray Kou because of Hanzo Guang's letter. She insisted her innocence.

It only occurred to her, when she set down the cup for him, that she might ask. To think: that morning she had thought she would spend the rest of her life meeting other ladies like Hakuei, attending banquets, perhaps hosting some when she felt the need. She would occasionally meet the Empress and other advisors; she would manage her husband's household. She had been ready to do that, however reluctantly she would admit it, but that was what she had been thinking.

She gazed at him.

Kouen was still dripping wet. His crimson hair clung to his forehead, but he did not look the slightest bit uncomfortable; he had rushed there, muddying his shoes because of the walk all the way from the west wing.

"You've been in a war before."

There was no variation, no sympathy to his voice; only cold, logical assessment, which she had grown used to. She slowly raised a brow at him.

"Yes, I was. Though not in the way most people think."

"And your husband—"

She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. " _You're_ my husband, Kouen."

He went on unfazed. "You don't speak of him."

She bit her tongue, wanting him to finish, not wanting to stupidly interrupt him a second time.

When it seemed like he would say nothing else, she spoke.

"His name," she uttered, "was Alexander."

 _Iskander,_ as Kuja was once fond of complaining. She wished she could be half as circumspect, half as unfeeling as Kouen was. He asked her these questions as if they were of little consequence to him, and perhaps they were, because he didn't know that the answers made up the contents of a good ten years of her life—that the answers would not come painlessly, and freely. Kouen wanted this for a while now, and he had asked her about it a long time ago. On their wedding night, she remembered acutely, and she had refused the idea outright.

It had been a ridiculous thought: why should she give herself up wholly, when she had already given him her hand, her country's ships, and then her body; she had told him the beginning of the tale of her and Alexander, but she should've known that a man like him never wanted things in piecemeal, and only wished to devour things whole.

Like his Empire, like his father; Kou was already swallowing the eastern continent, and why should Kouen be any different?

"Tell me about him."

She tilted her head at Kouen, wondering what it even mattered to him. But with the journey north now confirmed to be in two weeks—and with all that was asked of her, again—she supposed there would be no better time.

Sayuri felt her lips twitch. She consigned herself to this: she needed answers as well, and now was her chance; she readied her tongue, and unwound the ball of memory the last ten years had made. She untangled them and laid them out for her to speak, knowing he would want something comprehensive.

"There was Caera," She began, "and there was a war. There was Alexander, too."

* * *

She was barely eighteen, four years into the labor that was being married to the Crown Prince of Caera.

Caera was a federation of city states who all paid tribute to her father-in-law, the king, who ruled from the greatest city state: Ocella, to which all oligarchs, all merchants, all generals, and all the people of Caera swore glory and loyalty to. Such had been the state of Caera for the last three hundred years, and the situation she had married into.

When she first arrived, there was at least the outward appearance of peace and stability; she was shocked when she was eighteen to learn that there was an uprising in Eastern Caera, to which the king dispatched parts of his army. There had been a brewing rebellion, something that was not very different from what Kou now faced in Qileng, except this was no barbarian horde descending upon the Caeran border—this was an armed revolt raised by true citizens of Caera, with organized armies and well-supplied fortresses.

The first two months of war had not been kind, and the army was riddled with deserters; most soldiers defected to their home city-state's banner, and some even fought against the king and Ocella's army—it was time, the rebels said, for the monarchy to be abolished, and for true democracy to reign. They would stand no more of the tyranny of the royalty when the average Caeran starved, and the great cities were forced to pay tribute to Ocella, funding the luxuries and debauches of its elitist citizens.

Before everything, Alexander had asked her to stay by his side. He asked her to treaty with the oligarchs who headed the city-states and convince them to flock to the king's banner; to _their_ banner, he reminded her, because she was part of the Caeran royalty too, and if they did not win the war, then she would surely perish with them.

Four months in, the king died in battle. Her mother-in-law then ruled as the sole Queen of Caera from Ocella. Alexander went east to command what remained of the monarchy's army, and Sayuri called a conference with the oligarchs, as had been asked of her.

At that point, the war had ravaged everyone. Both sides suffered losses; the king had died in one massive pyrrhic victory, but it had granted the remainder of the royal army one last upper hand. With a vengeful Alexander now at the head, he would stop at nothing to raze the last of the eastern city-states and kill every single man that had rebelled against him and his father.

He was poised to win, and to slaughter everyone in his path.

And then?

And then, with the consent of the Queen, and the agreement of all the remaining heads of state, they dissolved the Kingdom of Caera. It was now the Caeran Republic, and its first decree was to arrest the illegal standing army headed by Alexander.

Of the twelve great cities of Caera, four had originally banded together to rebel; two more flocked to their banner, which made an initially staunch eastern band of rebel cities, and the remaining six either fought for the king or stayed neutral, or betrayed one side for the other. Of the cities at the conference she called, all twelve were also present. There were secret envoys from all over Caera, and secret diplomatic parties from even the failing rebel city states; Ocella herself was represented by the Queen.

Upon dissolution of the kingdom, they raised a new army. The army of the new republic, it was called, and it was dispatched to deal with Alexander's army. There were calls for her husband's surrender, but he stubbornly refused; a battle was fought, and they destroyed him.

And Sayuri was left without her title, and reverted to being a princess of Jishou. There had been offers made for her to be a senator of Ocella in the new Caeran senate, but she demurred. She had sailed first to Ariavat, and then to Jishou, but over the years she had returned to Caera, over and over, trying to help rebuild.

The last time she had seen Alexander was before he'd left for the east. _Convince your father to send us some of his ships and we'll starve out the east,_ he'd told her with a smile and a kiss, and she had only bowed her head in response.

* * *

Technically, the rebels had won that war. They got what they wanted; Caera was a republic now, and a countless number of people died in their revolution, including the former king and his only son. The former queen retired into obscurity; Sayuri only wished she could say the same.

"And this is from where Hanzo Guang stems his claim that I may help him," She scoffed, turning to gaze outside the window. "He says I have brokered a peace before, and now I may perhaps do the same for him."

"And haven't you?"

"Peace," Sayuri turned to look her husband in the eye, "is never the work of one person. I expect you've treated with many losing armies and commanders. For true compromise, there must be true sacrifice."

She felt it was a word that was overused. _Peace._ What did that even mean to an Empire like Kou? When it wielded so much power that it felt like it could just impose its will on the eastern continent, and declare itself as the destined ally of Jishou?

"I certainly don't deserve any credit," she muttered. "The magisters were also present at the peace talks. More than anything else, it was them and the corpses strewn along the borders of the cities that drove a congregation into Ocella to talk about 'peace.'"

Kouen raised a brow. Were she in a different mood, she would've laughed; he was still soaked to the bone, and it made her roll her eyes and shrug off the outer robe she'd been wearing as a jacket. She held it out for him. "Take it, you're still wet."

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he did take it with a nod, and as he was drying himself off, she poured him a cup of tea. How was that for being an attentive wife?

"You deny your own part."

"I played no outsized role."

"And were all the men at those talks not your friends?"

"I should have known—" She gazed at him again. He was suitably drier now, and his hair had been brushed off to the side. He sipped at his tea without a qualm, and she held back her sharp reply. Instead she said, "Nobushiro once told me he suspected Koumei was going to ask him about what happened in Caera eventually. Perhaps he did and my brother obliged him; perhaps that's why you know. Why ask me if you already knew?"

A foolish question. She knew the answer as soon as he said it: "I wished to hear your side."

"Was it worth months of waiting, I wonder."

"It was," Kouen said simply. "And you still carry your guilt, despite it happening years ago."

"How astute of you," She snapped. "Were it only so easy to wash away all wrongdoing, as you seem to think."

"Would you call it wrong? You saved the lives of many people," He challenged.

"Have I? I have spared nobody. It was never my sword that was raised against the people of Caera. The magisters put an end to everything."

"Then _why_ do you—"

"Stop."

She had closed her eyes and raised an open palm, willing him to shut up. Her other hand was clenched in a fist, though the sleeve of her robe hid its trembling well enough, and she let it lay shaking against her thigh.

When she opened her eyes, she gazed at her husband's look of surprise.

"If you're going to ask me," She said slowly, making sure he was listening, "why I refuse to speak about him, and if this may be the reason why you take my reluctance as guilt, then here is your answer: no one deserves to be betrayed by someone they trusted implicitly. His cause was wrong but he did not deserve that."

She had been told, in the days leading up to the last battle of the civil war, that Alexander had been distraught by the announcement of the dissolution of the monarchy. That he had been enraged, and that—perhaps—it was her betrayal that drove him to refuse their terms of peace, and to refuse surrendering.

The last battle of the civil war had been catastrophic. Early on, Alexander's army had driven back the line of the republicans; he had gone so far as to capture their general, and as soon as Alexander had speared him, he had roped the general to his chariot and dragged his lifeless body across the battlefield.

Such was Alexander's undoing. An archer had caught him as he had been doing his victory lap.

"It makes why Hanzo Guang would be looking for my assistance all the more interesting, does it not? Will I go north to betray my second husband and overthrow his kingdom too, as the Emperor may think, or will I go north to help negotiate a second peace, as the governor thinks?"

She finished her piece. Her fist had stopped trembling, and she released her fingers, stretching them.

"I trust you," Kouen said bluntly. She wheeled her gaze back at him. "I have never doubted you, Sayuri."

Hearing her name on his lips sent shivers up her spine. It was all so simple, to him. Like black and white. Good and evil. Who he could trust, and who he couldn't. Were it only so easy for her, too.

"You have admitted to me your reluctance on this matter," He continued, "and that you still carry your guilt over his death, but clearly know he was wrong; you offer blind loyalty to no one."

"That only means I don't blindly follow Kou."

"Because it should be worthy of your allegiance," Kouen replied. "If the Emperor asked someone else to go to Qileng and order its destruction, but you knew something could be done about it, would you have kept quiet? Or have no doubts about the leadership of Kou?"

She fell silent. No, she wouldn't have. As she knew now; if Hanzo was to be believed, there was still some measure of coaxing, of some persuasion to be done. On both sides. "And would _you_ order its destruction, Kouen? As General Commander of the army?"

"Only if it was necessary," He uttered without pause. "Only if it was good, for the Empire."

That was subjective. And hadn't that always been the excuse, for Alexander? _For the unity of the kingdom I must go east to quell the rebellion,_ he always said, _and if we want to win this war, you must ask your father to send his ships._

She had known there was another choice: a ceasefire and perhaps a peace, but done behind his back, with the aid of the magisters, and the oligarchs, and the queen. And hadn't she told herself that—that if he refused to surrender, then his death was needed to herald the start of the new republic?

 _The last threat to the republic,_ the magisters had said.

 _He needed to die._

Kouen was a different man. Already she knew he was a man that would not be rushed into decisions; he was discerning, and frighteningly intelligent. He had the advice of Koumei, of whom she already had a high opinion; as a husband he was gentle, if annoying sometimes.

"You would do well in Qileng." Kouen finished. "Hakuei will be there to help you, and I will be reassigning General Shuu to garrison the north. I had some suspicion as to who the Emperor was selecting for the expedition north, but you are a capable choice."

"Alright, fine, _you trust me,_ " She muttered.

How many times now had she been surprised by him? Koutoku was a face of the Empire, but Kouen was yet another; in another world she would have called his remarks optimistic, but _optimism_ was never in Kouen's character—he was deeply practical, and unflinching in his opinions.

She sometimes wondered about him. He carried the weight of Crown Prince so easily, and didn't even seem to be in strain—he went on in his days, paperwork, meetings, and strategizing taken in stride without complaint. He was so busy that there didn't even seem much for her to do as his wife, and he didn't seem to care.

Kouen was so certain. And even if it felt like arrogance, he was always so _certain_.

Certain almost felt like reliable, when it came to him.

"I just told you," She uttered with a raised brow, "that I was perhaps to blame for my first husband's death. And this doesn't frighten you, being my second husband?"

He looked at her. It was _perhaps_ with some exasperation. "No. Do not be obtuse, Sayuri."

"Forgive me." She said innocently. "I only wonder why you chose me. And led my family to believe Koumei would be marrying Mameha."

"I will not repeat myself."

"You said: I offer blind loyalty to no one. You chose me knowing I may betray you. You knew even then, that I betrayed Alexander."

"I chose you because you seemed to know your principles, and because you were a valuable asset to have for Kou."

The latter part she understood. The former was what made her brow climb even higher on her forehead. She asked incredulously, "And you suppose yourself worthy of those principles?"

Kouen said nothing. He remained stoic. But he refused to part his gaze from hers, and raised only his own brow in response, as if asking, _what do you think?_

What did she think, indeed.

It was something far braver than she could have imagined. Kouen was loyal to Kou with all his heart, and he had explained to her that despite being married into it, it must be worthy of her allegiance first. He risked Kou being hurt by bringing her into the fold, knowing she had dethroned Alexander and helped Caera into a republic, but he went ahead with it anyway.

 _A funny line of thought._

Her lips formed a smile, despite herself. Perhaps it was just his conceit; perhaps in his eye the character of Kou was impeccable, since he stood at its forefront, and commanded most of it. She would not find a reason to betray Kou, because he would never give her one.

Kouen truly was different. Brave was just another word for bold. Certain another word for arrogant. And she did not think Kouen cared to walk a line separating either; he was just himself.

"I've entrusted to you my story," She uttered with resign, "perhaps you will entrust me yours."

"Ask," He said.

She thought about it for a moment. Here loomed all the answers she wanted, about the former emperor, about Gyokuen, about the entirety of the imperial family, and yet—

Something about it all felt unsatisfying.

"Another day, perhaps."

The words had slipped out of her tongue before she could think of them. Yet it was true, and she had had her measure of him today. It filled her with no curiosity to know he would answer a question so easily, but she knew at least now that this was owed to her.

For now?

For now she felt like she needed to be alone.

"At a time when you would find it most inconvenient, surely," She jested with a smile, "just know that I will not be refused."

Kouen made no argument. He seemed slightly amused by her demand, like she was a child making useless requests and he was merely humoring her. But she knew herself: she would force the matter if she had to, and she tried to convey this in a meaningful stare tossed back at him.

"There will be no refusal for this, either," He said as he got up. He left her cloak folded neatly by the low table. "Since you are now officially part of the military expedition north, I will be requiring you to learn how to defend yourself."

She stood. "That's unnecessary. I've Davvid to keep me safe—"

He looked at her. "And did I not say," He uttered patiently, "that there will be no refusal for this?"

"But it's unreasonable. I will not be left alone, I assure you, and I _know_ what it means to travel with an army."

"I would rather you make it out alive from Qileng, Sayuri. I will not be there to protect you."

 _As if my life matters so much to you,_ she would've said, but his eyes were deathly serious.

"Alright. But Davvid will train me."

He nodded. "That is acceptable. I will oversee this, of course."

She held her tongue.

"Fine."

Kouen left with a nod. He had simply relaced his shoes and gone, out into the storming day, and it was Fuu that had ran back inside, a deeply curious Davvid in tow.

As soon as the doors slid closed Sayuri collapsed against a pile of pillows she left in a corner, letting out one large sigh—and then chuckling softly to herself. It was almost laughable the way her cool mask fell so quickly to shambles when Kouen was gone.

"What happened? I heard about your meeting with the Emperor and Empress, Princess, are you quite alright?"

Her fingers grasped her knees. She felt like curling into a ball and letting herself be enveloped by the stuffed pillows surrounding her—she could just sink into the fluff and never be seen again.

But as it was she just tucked her legs underneath her.

Kouen knew. Kouen had known, he had known since near the very beginning, and he had breathed not a word of it; he had let it gone unquestioned, had let her have her mysteries and illusions. Opening herself to him felt like brushing up against death: this was why she had her manners, and her politesses; she could keep people at arm's length if she so wished, but that afternoon she had elected to bare herself to Kouen, and found out she had been exposed the entire time.

And yet what had he done about it?

 _He decided to marry me._

"Fuu," She said, with the slightest tremble in her voice. She pursed her lips, but her friend knelt by her on the carpets. Sayuri got out of the pillows, to kneel beside her as well. "Fuu?"

The blonde took her hands in hers, grasping them tightly. They smelt of peaches, like she had just been cutting one freshly picked, and the juices had worked themselves in between her lovely fingers. "I'm here, Sayuri."

Sayuri smiled. She bit her cheek, then laughed weakly. "Are you sure you don't want to return home? You have been in my service too long. Perhaps I—perhaps I can arrange something nice for you, a good noble to marry, or for you to travel the world. Both. Whatever you wish."

"Oh, Sayu," Her friend shook her head. She squeezed her hands tight.

Sayuri did not want to go north. She wanted no part in this. Yet—yet she would, and Kouen would come with her, for at least part of the way. He knew her, inside and out, and the thin veneer of control she had thought she had over her life grew ever so thinner.

And what did she have in return?

 _His trust apparently,_ she thought, as Fuu pulled her into her arms and Sayu let herself be hugged.

She was no fool: this was something highly prized and not freely given, but apparently he deemed her worthy of. His little wife, someone he felt he trusted. For one brief moment she wondered if he had lied when he said that, but decided against it—when had he ever lied to her?

Perhaps only by omission, but she knew better now.

 _Ask,_ he had said. She certainly would.

* * *

The skies cleared the next day.

Kouen watched the small army of servants moving his and Sayuri's belongings from their wing to the very back of the imperial complex, where the Bamboo Palace was—it had been Sayuri's original wing when she had first arrived, but it was doubtless the most secluded of the wings, and was more than enough to host both of them in the days leading up to her northern expedition.

He had summoned her right after he had returned from sword practice and his bath, just an hour after dawn, knowing she would already be awake. There had been a brief conversation about how to prepare her for the task the Emperor had set; they agreed it would be best if she could train with Davvid in peace, where no one would see them. Many people were still wary of the magister, and the seclusion of the Bamboo Palace would be a suitable place that also served the purpose of warding off visitors.

Kouen, too, would be moving his belongings. They would be spending many more hours together, along with Koumei, briefing her on the northern situation. A larger study had been built in the new wing, and Kouen also needed to keep track of her progress.

He stood beside his younger brother. Koumei was also observing the procession of belongings, though his eyes drew to the side when he noticed Sayuri speaking to her blonde attendant, Fuu.

"Why do you think she accepted this mission?" His brother asked.

Kouen glanced at him.

There was a furrow to his brow, as if the question was a puzzle he could not figure.

Kouen's eyes flickered to where Sayuri stood. She was down the hall, dictating something to her attendant. Every now and then a Kou maid would come up to her with some question or other, and she would send them off on another errand with little more than a few words and a nod.

"Because she has a sense of duty," He said, though he felt it should be obvious. "And no one refuses the Emperor."

"I imagine she was unhappy with the decision."

"Perhaps at first."

They both quieted, as it seemed like Sayuri sensed them speaking about her, and she looked their way. She raised a hand in greeting, though she did this with narrowed eyes as she caught him staring at her.

And then she left. Her guards and her attendants trailed behind her like a cloak she had drawn over her shoulders; she walked in the sunlight, talking amiably with someone or other. She left with blue skies above her, and the flutter of her silk robes sweeping underneath.

"And you think she's happy now?" Koumei turned to look at him, in slight disbelief. The reaction prompted him to raise his own brow.

"I never spoke the words."

It looked as if his brother had else to say, but he snapped his mouth shut at the last moment. He bowed his head deeply, looking remorseful for the almost-outburst.

"Forgive me, brother. I…I spoke out of turn."

Kouen made no motion of forgiveness, as it seemed Koumei was thinking something. His eyes were downcast as he drew his fan, and the older Ren just watched him leave, too.

* * *

Notes:

Haha...what romance? [ducks beneath a table]

(1) "he hitched his lifeless body to his chariot" is probably still one of my favorite things from the classics world. I hope people understand this reference. It's both sad and brutal. Just think: I'm going to write about Alexander (and Kuja) a little bit more in Night 3 of _1001 Nights._

(2) Yes. CountessCzan put it nicely in a review of last chapter; this is slow-burn. We're getting to the romance, I swear. And actually some of the adventure now, since we have sword training in the next chapter, and we're headed north.

Now allow me to plug this other little fic I'm writing now, about Muu. It's also AU, but it's actually tied to _Pale Fire_ 's AU, yup. If you might be interested in that, since it's got lots of worldbuilding about Rome/Reim, just go check it out on my profile! It's a little passion project of mine. Hehe.

Thanks to everyone who's read so far, and also reviewed; I love hearing everyone's thoughts. Especially for last chapter. I'll be responding to them in a couple hours!


	18. Lovers

**I** f you saw the "discontinued" tag on this fic it was a mirage. An illusion. A lapse of judgment (on my part.)

* * *

 **18**

 _Lovers_

Kouen came to her in the middle of her meal, so when the doors to their chambers slid open, she didn't even stop as she fed herself another piece of her braised fish. She'd just returned from a trip to the bathhouse, her skin still glowing peachy-pink. She'd pinned her hair back with the silver hairpin he'd given her; it left a damp trickle running down the back of her neck and disappearing into turquoise sleeping robes.

 _Their_ chambers. Neither of them had bothered to mention (or in fact, remember) during their agreement of their move to the Bamboo Palace that there was only one set of chambers large enough to suitably serve as the bedchambers of a member of the royal family. He had disappeared before they could discuss the unusual arrangement living together in the new wing presented, so she had taken it upon herself (like a good wife, she wryly thought) to settle all the details herself.

As it was, their new chambers was a good reflection of their union. Kouen had little furniture to begin with, so she had had no qualms with filling the room with her own things; the other half to their chambers, however, she reserved for his study, and kept everything as she thought he would like. The master bedroom had grown since she'd last resided, nearly excessive with the amount of space, so there was still plenty of room for them to go about their business comfortably.

And so she sat, eating. If he had any complaints, he'd simply have to take them up with her. When he sat down before her in their shared table—she had enough food for two, and had set the table with a place for him just in case—she moved to pour him a cup of tea.

It was a very domestic scene. The wife lying in wait for her husband, the food still steaming with warmth. Perhaps next time she'd even do him the courtesy of starting their meals together, but she knew he kept irregular nights, and she had grown hungry after a long day of playing interior designer for their new living quarters.

How quaint, Sayuri mused.

"Your bed would fit nowhere else," She began. "I left it here."

Kouen nodded, sipping his tea. Sayu continued, "And I left all of the things in your precious study in here."

Another nod.

When she said nothing more, he raised a brow at her. "Is there anything else?"

"None," She replied cheekily. She smiled and went back to eating—if he wanted to talk more, he would have said something anyway. The mere fact of the matter was she couldn't let him hog the best chambers in _their_ wing of the palace. Of course, that morning, his servants had brought all of his things to this exact chamber—and her servants had done the same, so the compromise was they'd simply had to live together from then on.

Not exactly the situation she had been anticipating, in retrospect, but Sayuri made no complaint. It would be _interesting_ if nothing else. And besides—she set her chopsticks down and began a walk to the far end of their chambers, the very back of the Bamboo Palace itself—she could not give up a view like this.

She had left the sliding doors open. Gleaming moonlight fell into their rooms, just a few steps away from the brilliant orange light of their lamps. Their verandah—distinguished from the fine woven mats of their chamber's floor—was built of polished dark wood. The railings were purposely built low, and below were the still waters of a pond filled with goldfish and lotus blossoms. To the middle was a bridge, arching over the landscape, which led into a gently lit pavilion. She had placed Kouen's go table there, the memory of their few games lingering in the back of her mind as she had watched the servants struggle to carry the large round table over the narrow bridge.

Tall shoots of bamboo still enclosed the scene, but still it was a beautiful, peaceful place that made the most out of the limited space. It was quiet, the only sounds being the distant singing of nightingales.

She couldn't kick Kouen out of the chambers. It was fitting, she supposed, for a couple to live together like this. Sayuri had taken the entire day to grow accustomed to the idea. She thought Kouen was a light presence, anyway; he would be absent from their chambers most of the time, and they would only meet at night and a few hours in the morning.

Sayuri looked back at her husband, finding him gazing at her drawers—or rather, what was on the drawers. It was the sword he'd given her for her twenty-fourth birthday, unsheathed and proudly displaying its intricate lions and metalwork while sitting on the rack.

Was that displeasure on his face? He was then standing, walking, taking the weapon in his hand, and testing the grip and weight. She crept up to him, but was still careful to maintain her distance, knowing he had a real sword in hand.

"Why is this here?" He was looking at her with those awful crimson eyes, and she tilted her head at him, a challenge already rising in her throat.

"Is there a better place for it?" Still smiling, she crossed her arms. It was a habit she reserved only for when she was not wearing her formal robes; otherwise she could've clasped her hands, hidden in her voluminous sleeves. "I'm sure you prefer this to it lying in the bottom of my trunk, forgotten."

Spending the day redesigning their new living quarters had forced her to reassess her opinion of her husband. And the truth was, when she got down to it, that Sayuri liked Kouen. It was hard not to, she realized; that tall man and his broad shoulders; his fiery red hair and goatee. His regal bearing, his bluntness. He went straight to the point, and spared nothing on meaningless niceties. He was a scholar who understood the virtues of reading and knowledge. People called him dangerous, but she found that he simply followed his own logic; as she got to know him more, she realized he was not unpleasant.

Was she fortunate that this was the man she had married? Perhaps so—it made living with him easier, knowing _he_ was the person she had to suffer.

She liked the face he made when she needled him, especially. That narrowing of his eyes, the contempt drawing his mouth apart to utter a taunt or an insult. And it was so _easy_ to needle him.

He had grabbed the scabbard and sheathed the sword. He stepped closer to her, hands lifting to slide the sword beneath the thin silk tie that held her sleeping robe shut. The cross-guard stopped it from sliding down any further, and her thigh rested uneasily against the length of the sword.

When he finished, he held her just above her hips, luxurious silk gathering between his fingers. His words were almost harsh: "A sword is meant to be always by your side. It's no good if you can't reach for it."

"Sword lessons already," Sayuri bore the brunt of his crimson gaze. She had never asked for a sword. Never even thought she would have to lift it against someone, someday. The memories of the Caeran civil war were just as unforgiving as Alexander with a sword in his hand. The reason why she had committed herself to rebuilding Caera and marrying into the Kou Empire reared itself—the reason why she had agreed to going to Qileng. She was a peacemaker, deep in her heart, and she had no stomach for war.

 _He will not make a war princess out of me,_ she had once thought. And here she was, letting him slip a sword by her side, taking lessons to learn how to properly wield it tomorrow; she had willingly married him, the one they called a warmonger, a prince whose empire had raised itself on enough blood to fill an ocean.

His grip was gentle on her sides, his touch almost burning through the thin fabric of her sleeping robe. His eyes were scanning hers, and she nodded an acceptance of his lesson.

Kouen still seemed unsatisfied. "Your heart is still soft, Sayuri," He said, pulling away. "Your time in Caera has not changed you."

She stilled. She looked at him, the urge to dismiss him out of turn almost uncontrollable. _You know nothing about what happened in Caera,_ she wanted to say. But she kept her cool. Kouen knew how to taunt; she was fairly sure this was not one of those instances. "What makes you say that?"

"People die." The words were blunt. "You need to be able to kill sometimes, for the greater good. Compromises. Casualties. They all need to be taken in stride. Why don't you wield a sword? Because you can't think of an instance where people would want to kill you, or where you would want to kill them. It's foolish."

" _Foolish?"_ She repeated, the sword tapping uneasily against her knee as she drew closer to him. "What part of wanting to exhaust all of our options before resorting to bloodshed is _foolish?_ And so what if I don't want to hurt another person! If _I_ don't want to cut someone down? Can you honestly begrudge me wanting so spare someone of that pain?"

He looked down on her. "If you won't, someone else will. Davvid. Koumei. Hakuei. Even Kougyoku. Someone else will, at the end of the day. Your insistence on not being able to protect yourself is nothing but naive and egotistical. Would you pass on that responsibility to someone else? Make Kougyoku kill for you, since you refuse to?"

Using Kougyoku against her felt underhanded. A deliberate incitement. "I already agreed to the lessons!" Sayuri shook her head. "What more could you ask of me? What is this about? I already agreed to go to Qileng!"

Kouen closed that last space between them by holding her by her shoulders. "Promise me, then, that you will do everything it takes to make sure you come out of the North alive. That if you fail and are drawn into a fight, you _will_ fight back. _Promise me."_

She nearly scoffed in his face. "You told me you trusted me," She spat, "yet here you are, with your promises and provocations. What kind of trust is that?"

"Of course I trust you," He hissed. It did not go unnoticed by her—this was the first time she'd ever seen him speak so forcefully. "I know you will try your best. I myself could not have tasked anyone better for this. I know you will seek the best solution. But the possibility—I need to know that you won't let yourself die."

The anger died in her throat. She couldn't believe it. Was this what the argument was about? She laughed. "You must think I'm _so_ feeble. To not value my own life like that."

"No," Kouen sighed. "But if you thought that it was for the best, if it was for the greater good. If you could save more lives."

Her breath hitched. Then she narrowed her eyes—no, she had not thought of that. But that was a distant possibility, wasn't it? And—and it was not as if—it was not as if she wasn't expendable, compared to the ambitions of the Empire, and when Kouen could simply _remarry_ —

A pawn. A gambit. That's what the value of the life of a princess was; she had been given over to Caera, first, then to Kou. Her life bore the fingerprints of something always greater than her—the peace of Caera, the peace of the Triangle—and she had always known it.

But Kouen was lifting a hand to her chin, thumb and forefinger turning her head to him, his lips just hovering over hers. He forced her to look him in the eye, all her thoughts melting away at the somberness in his crimson pools.

"No matter what happens," he uttered, "you need to return to me. There is no compromise worth your life, Sayuri."

"As if my life matters so much to you," She said, quietly, but not looking away. It had been the same words she'd thought yesterday, when he'd stormed into her old rooms through the rains and had tracked mud all over her carpets. He'd been soaking wet and she'd told him her life's story.

Had it really only been yesterday?

Kouen only chuckled, the small breaths puffing over her skin. She closed her eyes at the sudden warmth, wondering what was so funny.

Then he pressed his lips against hers.

One small kiss, yet the feeling of him lingered. Like he had transferred his heat to her.

As soon as it began, it ended; he was pulling away, Sayuri staring at him, her eyes wide. She blinked, feeling her senses return to her, and air suddenly filled her lungs.

"Why?"

Why did you kiss me. Why do you care so much. Why this argument to begin with; why any of this. Why, why, _why_.

His fingers were tracing her jaw. For the first time, she watched his forehead wrinkle, but his mouth was pulled into the ghost of a smile. "Because you are my wife," He said so simply, as if it answered all of her questions.

It was not the first time she'd heard him say that. Dimly, the memory of a conversation in the imperial archives, by the candlelight and with thunder rolling in the background, echoed in her mind. He had said the same thing too. Now, however, there was only silence.

She had always found something odd about those words.

Sayu pursed her lips in momentary indecision.

Then she stretched her spine and got on the balls of her feet, reaching for him, her tall husband—one hand snaking to rest where his neck and his shoulder joined, one hand resting on the back of his head, her thumb reaching to stroke his cheek. His red hair was soft under her fingertips, and this time, she found him leaning into her touch.

 _Ask,_ he'd told her yesterday. "You could remarry." She could not help the curiosity in her tone as she said this. It was true; he could. Many other princesses would want to. His eyes were still tracking hers, even as she scanned his face for any break in emotion, any indication he was trying to fool her. There was none; of course there was none. There was only his face, calm, but still honest. "You could choose someone else. It would be a simple thing, to replace me."

His smile stretched wider. Turned into a smirk. His crimson eyes glinted with that haughtiness of his. As she said; it was so _easy_ to needle him. A taunt: "Yes, if you wanted it."

Now _he_ was teasing her. She laughed, and put her hands down. No; that wasn't what she wanted at all. The thought of him being attached to someone else made her twitchy—possessive, even. His broad shoulders and his tall figure. His scholarliness. His serious eyes, his fondness for capes. No. She liked Kouen. He was _hers,_ just like she was his. Besides: if any woman found out how ill-tempered and brusque Kouen actually was, his marriage prospects would dwindle considerably.

She turned away from him, pulling the sword from her waist, still in its sheath. She held it in her hands as she moved towards her nightstand where a panel of mirrors also rested. When she saw Fuu at the doorway, she waved; some attendants came into clear their dinner, before Fuu brought a fresh pot of tea. She always took a cup of tea before sleep; she also happened to take one as soon as she woke, during every meal, and whenever she felt like it throughout the day. Perhaps Kouen would pick up the habit as well: she saw him through the reflection of her mirror. He was sitting down at his— _their_ —bed, untying his cape and unbuckling his belt.

Their argument stayed in mind as she set the sword down on a nearby dresser and pulled the pin from her hair, the still-damp locks tumbling down her back with a dull slap. She combed her fingers through the strands—they weren't as dry as she liked, but she still had her tea after all, she could wait a while before settling into bed.

It was madness to say her life mattered more than the security of one northern province in Kou. Madness. She could not have promised him. She liked being alive, of course, but there were things that were more important than her. As she tilted her head and gazed at her reflection in the three mirrors—one oval face, green eyes, silver brows, and skin losing the glow the hot water of her bath had given her—she found her eyes always strayed to the sword, resting innocently in the background, just over her shoulder. A weapon too beautiful to just gather dust staying on a rack in her room; an instrument begging to be held, to be caressed, to be used.

She tore her eyes away. Sayuri busied herself by reaching for a comb in one of her drawers. It was made of boxwood; light brown and shaped like a half-moon, she began running its fine teeth through her hair, her strokes long and smooth. Usually, Fuu liked to comb her hair, but she was with Kouen right now—and Fuu knew she liked to be left alone with him after Sayu had noticed he didn't bring any of his attendants around her.

Kouen disappeared into one of the smaller adjoining rooms and came back dressed in his sleeping robe. It was a lengthy task, combing all her hair; she liked to comb it over and over again, and in the morning she would repeat the process.

When all the attendants had gone, she spied him approaching her from behind. With one swift pull, his hair also came free from his royal hair ornaments. He set down his ebony headdress beside her silver hairpin on the nightstand.

"Care to lend a hand?" She looked at him through the mirror, her open palm with the comb laid flat, as if it were beckoning him to pick it up.

To her surprise, he nodded and took the comb. She sat while his strong fingers ran lightly through her hair, the fine teeth of her comb and his steady hand pulling back strands from her face. His touches were teasing, almost. Mere brushes on her scalp, the warmth light and fleeting. Sayuri watched him through the mirror, her lips pulling into a small smile until she sighed and looked away. "Thank you, Kouen."

 _Return to me,_ he had said. No matter what happens. A pillar of strength and fortitude, he was; if the world burned or the oceans devoured the land, she imagined him standing atop of it all, alive, indestructible. Who was she in comparison? Just a princess with a lot of friends who wrote to her and asked her for favors. In little less than two weeks' time she would be learning the basics of how to defend herself using a sword—it would be small and almost certainly meaningless, compared to what he knew of swordplay, and when she would be surrounded by dozens of trained guards who were better trained than she was.

And yet he insisted upon it anyway; and yet he told her she must return to him, no matter the outcome. She spared a moment to think if he actually meant that—and cursed herself for the foolish thought; of course he did. If it meant peace for Qileng or her life, she knew she could not make herself choose. And yet he was trying to make herself promise to choose her life—over the lives of thousands of people?

She caught her reflection in the mirror.

Oval face. Two green eyes. Silver brows—this was the face of the woman who had lived through a war, too; who had sacrificed her beloved for peace, who had pleased the magisters with her decisions, who had helped rebuild in the years that had come after. Yes; this was the face of just a princess. _Her_ face.

Her life over thousands. No—that was preposterous.

It would not come to that. She wouldn't let it. This she knew, in the marrow of her bones, as if a truth that had just been hidden inside of her from the very beginning: she would do everything she could to prevent that from happening; distant possibility or near future that it may be, she would not allow it to come to pass. It was what Koutoku would've wanted, she was sure. For everything to end in bloodshed—for her to fail in her mission spectacularly.

And Kouen—he would not let that happen either. Senseless violence and that kind of savagery were not in him; he hadn't inherited his father's absolute ruthlessness and indifference for spilling blood. No. She knew him. She trusted him.

"I promise to return."

She raised her hands to grasp his, pulling the comb from his fingers with ease and setting it down on her nightstand. Sayu turned in her seat, facing him, his hands in hers. "I promise not to die. I will come back with a favorable peace; please give me your trust."

Kouen looked pleased. "You have always had it."

She smirked at his self-satisfied expression, her fingers running light, slow circles in his rough palms. She spoke the next words slowly, wanting him to listen and listen carefully: "Then allow me to repay it in kind. I trust you, Kouen, to not let it come to bloodshed. I know—I know that it may be inevitable, but still. Do everything in your power to not let it come to that, just as I will. Promise me."

He raised a brow in challenge, but the smile did not leave his face; if anything, it only broadened.

He bent down, hand releasing from hers to cup her face again. She reveled in his touch, even as he leant his cheek on hers, and his beard tickled against her skin. His voice was low in her ear, the challenge spilling from his lips without any hesitation: "Done."

* * *

She retired to the verandah after that. She took with her a single lantern and the tray of her nightly tea that Fuu had brought in. Kouen had turned away to work on the other side of their chambers, in the study she had set up for him. It was with surprise when she found him joining her on the verandah just an hour later; he sat just a step away, the tea tray and lantern separating them. The bright orange light danced upon the pond. The goldfish darted through the waters, leaving nothing behind but ripples in their wake. How long until summer, she wondered. The rainy season had already begun with the storm from two days before.

She poured him a cup of tea. That was Fuu for you—she always remembered to bring two, when she was with Kouen; so far he had not declined any cup Sayuri had offered him. He accepted the drink with a wordless nod this time, and she went back to contemplating the pond.

There were rocks, too, covered in moss; there were old lion statues carved out of stone rising from the waters. Plum trees huddled near the pavilion, still green and sporting unripe fruit. Nearby were birds singing; nearer still were crickets chirping.

"You have something on your mind."

Sayuri gazed at her husband beside her. He was looking at the garden as well. She turned away. "Many things. Mostly who I'll bring with me, north. I'm thinking of downsizing my household."

"That would be wise."

"I'm leaving Fuu behind, too. No sense in bringing another defenseless woman to the north."

She paused. Then continued, knowing there would be no harm in sharing what she knew with Kouen—"Korechika will be returning to Jishou soon. His replacement is already on the way here."

"Why are they recalling him?"

"They aren't. He's recalling himself; he's head of his clan. He has neglected a lot of things to come west of Jishou. Not a lot of his clansmen are happy with him."

"You are, though."

A puff of laughter. She set her cup down, leaning forward a bit to look at him again. "Perhaps; his presence helped me when I first came here. Would you like to know something?"

"Continue."

"I have a feeling my father wanted me to replace him. We all knew his post was temporary; a clan without its head would be lost. He should not have stayed here as long he did, too."

"He cares for you. It comes as no surprise that he stayed as long as he has."

"He does," Sayuri acknowledged. "I care for him, too. I'm indebted to him for his kindness."

"Tell me. Why did you not accept his proposal?"

His tone was calm. Leisurely. Like they were chatting about the weather. The incongruity made her chuckle. "Which one? The first one or the second one?"

"Both."

"Kyouya's father was vile. I was a child; he had just come of age when the suggestion was made. The idea repulsed my father. The second time—"

She took a moment to gather her words. There had been an impassioned plea, nothing at all like the proposals relayed by fusty old men. She had felt trapped by the strength of his sudden emotion.

Sayuri flushed at her memories, and she was grateful for the cover of darkness night brought. Neither she nor Kyouya liked to recall that time in their lives, and though they did not speak of it, they had both moved on. Or at least that was what she thought about it. "I was still in mourning. I did not think it was very proper. In any case, I had grown tired of men at that point."

Kouen was looking at her. She teased, "You, of course, are the exception. How very flattering, isn't it?"

And Kyouya remained unmarried. She suspected part of the reason why he was returning to Jishou was because the Korechika elder council had been bombarding him with bridal candidates. Not that she blamed them—he was turning thirty soon; a clan needed the stability an heir provided.

Playing coy had never really worked well with Kouen. He didn't even bat an eye. There were better ways to get a reaction out of him, if she wanted to. "And what about you? Have you ever had to decline the marriage proposal of an overreaching noble?"

"None."

"None?"

He looked back at her, a questioning expression on his face. As if to say, what was she overreacting for? "I have been on the field even before I came of age. There has never been any time to contemplate such matters."

"Would you tell me," She mused out loud, "about your childhood?"

Kouen was silent for a moment. "Which part?"

"Well…" The princess waved her hand. "Whichever you feel like. I grew up in the Triangle. I could think of no place more tranquil. So I wonder what life was like, for you."

"Chaotic." He supplied easily. "The previous emperor took Koutoku on his campaigns. When I was old enough to properly use a sword, I was taken along as well. Koumei followed soon after."

Perhaps that was the reason why they were how they were. Kouen and Koumei shared this outward coolness that made most people nervous. Perhaps years of war just did that to a person.

"I rode out with the vanguard when I came of age. I've stayed on the battlefield since."

A short speech. But it was no less meaningful for it; she liked that quality about her husband. Sometimes she felt as if she spoke too much. He had always been more succinct. "Is it strange being away from it?"

She meant like right then. Like having to live with a wife, when he could be out with his troops.

"No." And he stood, offering her a hand. "I'm never away from it. Come to bed, Sayuri."

Funny, she thought the same thing as well. The Caeran civil war was never far from her thoughts, and especially now that she was in Kou, she found it more and more on her mind. Yet that had only lasted half a year; Kouen had been battling all his life.

She took his hand, curling her fingers around it and he helped her up from her seat. _I'm never away from it._ Such calmness, composure. Since the first time she'd met him, he'd always struck her as a different kind of man.

To say that she liked him, upon reflection, was perhaps an understatement—Sayuri admired him. She trusted him, respected him. She was beginning to think that he maybe felt the same way. Or at least—he trusted and respected her.

The memory of his lips on hers made her bow her head. No, he _had_ to like her too. She grinned.

Attendants came in and slid the doors to their verandah shut. Now, the moonlight and cool night air only flooded in from the latticed windows. One by one, she and Kouen put out the lights in their shared chambers together, until all that were left were the lamps by their bed.

She joined him on the new sheets she had found in one of his trunks. They were a deep maroon, cotton-soft and puffy. She could bundle herself in them fine, and Kouen seemed to have no complaints with her choice.

Sayuri fussed with her hair a bit more while sitting. "I'd like to beg to differ, you know. I would not call me _soft."_

He knew, perhaps more than anyone, that war changed people. He had told her he was never away from it; she was never away from it too. Perhaps the circumstances were different. Perhaps she had experienced less hardships than he had—she had never known the feeling of having to plunge your sword through someone else's gut and watch the life drain from their eyes. But that did not detract from the fact that she had lived through it, and she carried it with her in all the days that had come. Alexander had always been better at bloody outcomes and ultimatums than her. He had tried to change her too, tried to convince her that his war was righteous, tried to make her a warrior the same way he was.

It failed. She knew the steel in her heart was from her time in Caera. The success of the Caeran Republic was just enough proof for her to believe in something else, in peace and compromise, in the million easy and difficult decisions it took to get to that point. The key had always been to never stop believing that something else, something better could be possible. She did not have to be a warrior like Alexander or a great general like Kouen, all she needed was to merely trust in her capabilities and the people around her.

Her hair felt soft in her fingers, no tangles in sight. Her husband had combed it well for her.

She climbed in bed, burrowing herself under the sheets. Kouen was already resting on his side, facing her, chin propped in his palm, a single brow raised. Sayuri smiled at his red eyes looking down on her from his perch, and she reached from beneath the covers to tap at his chin. "Maybe you _could_ call me soft. By your standards, I'm sure. But there's nothing wrong with that. I know who I am."

He couldn't change her. It would be foolish to try. She had agreed to go to Qileng. She had consented to sword lessons. She promised a peace, and that she would return; he promised to do all in his power to help her bloodless vision become real. These were vows that betrayed who she was, at her core.

Kouen looked like he understood. A corner of his lips twitched upwards. "Give me your forgiveness for the insult, then."

She laughed, and blew out the remaining lamp at her bedside. "Of course."

* * *

Notes:

It's been a while since I last updated, so I worry about tone and the emotional pay-out of a couple of things. But all things considered, I sort of am pleased with the way this one turned out. It's also shorter than usual. Less than a chapter left before we leave Rakushou.

Anyway, I want to give a big shout-out to everyone that's messaged me in recent days; you're the real reason why I decided to revisit this fic, and I'm just really thankful that you all seem to enjoy reading this piece as much as I did in writing it. This one is for you. I'll be responding to reviews in a bit, I love you all, and I'll see you in the next chapter!


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